


The Dogfather

by Grace2013



Series: The Dogfather [1]
Category: TaleSpin (TV)
Genre: 1930s, Film Noir, Gen, Organized Crime, Parent/Child Incest, Past Sexual Abuse, Torture, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 18:18:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 34,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grace2013/pseuds/Grace2013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 1938; and Grace Kane is a journalist living in the port city of Cape Suzette. When her boss requests that she interview an imprisoned Don Karnage, Grace is all too unwillingly dragged into a grisly, dangerous underworld..... </p><p> </p><p>(post TV series.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Grace Marina Kane should have been used to her daily routine; having been doing it over and over for the past years like clockwork. At various early points at every morning she woke up, dragged herself out of bed and swept a sleep-wearied eye around her bedroom.

It always was the same: Blue paneled wallpaper, with a sickly hint of yellow daisies that Grace had had to repaint upon moving in back in ’25. At the northernmost end of the room there was her mirrored dresser; over which was draped a tattered red velvet curtain (for decoration only); and scattered about the surface were several crappy romance novels she’d picked up at the dime store, and Grace’s college diploma hung imperiously over the mirror; standing as a testament back to the old days where the very IDEA of females going to college was bizarre and obscene.

It was the morning of September 8th, 1938 and Grace was going through her morning business as usual. Yawning, she staggered blearily out of bed and approached the mirror, gazing exhaustedly at her gaunt complexion. Working full-time as a journalist was taxing and Grace was not exempt from that unspoken mar.

At age thirty she did not look quite young as she was; a pretty German shepherd with brown-black fur and the hazel eyes that everyone had always said were so pretty; but there was something ragged and exhausted now about her complexion, and Grace muttered a

“Damn I hate this job.”

As she splashed water onto her face with the nearby pitcher.

 

The previous day Grace had been assigned another one of those dreaded prison interviews; although Max Cavanaugh, her boss, (an arrogant old wreck of a ferret) had persuaded her into a 9:00 interview with the legendary Felipe Karnage, the infamous air robber (er excuse me, PIRATE!) who had recently been arrested following the emergency landing of his plane into a rocky gulch.

Chewing her claws in anticipation, Grace shed her pajamas, changing into a khaki-colored jacket and matching skirt, stuffing her tiny pistol into her sleeve as she always did.

“This had better go well.”

She muttered, examining her reflection in the mirror. Grace straightened the crumpled shoulder of her dress suit, made sure she didn’t look TOO hung-over, and promptly left the house for the cold edifice that was the Cape Suzette County Jail.

 

Grace walked. She could have taken the public bus but did not; as walking actually took less time given the proximity of the prison from her house. Upon arriving she was greeted by a burned-out looking possum Grace assumed was the secretary; who took a drag on her fat cigar and said.

“What ya here for sweetie?”

“My name’s Grace Kane; I’m a journalist for the Envoy.”

Briefly, she flashed a photo of herself with a release that Max had signed. The secretary nodded her consent.

“Ahh so yer that Miz Kane. The warden’ll be right there sweet’eart.”

Grace thanked the secretary and walked out of what she guessed was termed the lobby. The adjoining room led into the cell-block; a narrow corridor lined with cell upon cell, and was deathly quiet for a place where criminals were kept.

Every so often somebeast would whistle or play a somber note on a scratchy harmonica, but that would only momentarily add to the gloomy, sterile atmosphere. After what seemed like forever, another door to her left opened and an arrogant-looking heavyset tabby cat in a business suit strutted out; the warden.

He told Grace his name but embarrassingly, she forgot right away.

“Er…I’m here to see a Felipe Karnage.”

The warden’s face turned to stone.

“What?”

“Karnage….Damned pest. You paparazzi just love him, you know that? There's only so much a beast can handle.”

“I won’t be long.”

Grace assured him, doing her best to look sweetly innocent.

The warden gave her a once-over, but then nodded his submission.

“Back in half an hour.”

That was an order and not a question.

“Yes sir. Where is Karnage?”

The warden jabbed a meaty paw towards the end of the block.

“He’s been pushin’ solitary confinement since Monday. Tried to file his way out, clever insect; I’ll give him that. Due to his fame, Karnage was never consolidated t’begin with. He did not exercise, eat or work with the other prisoners and certainly does not now; not even in the chain-gang. I’ll tell you, if Karnage is going to get out of my prison alive he’ll certainly have to earn it.”

Grace did not listen to the warden’s fervent rant much longer; by then she was already halfway down the cellblock, and theoretically halfway to Karnage.


	2. Chapter Two

Transcript 1  
The below is a transcript of an interview between Felipe Karnage and Grace Kane on 9/8/38 and compiled at the office for the Cape Suzette Envoy.

 

GK has entered the cell block of the county jail. She stands against the wall near Karnage’s cell.

GK: Hello?

(a sound of footpaws on concrete. Karnage gets off his bunk)

FK: Hola senora….or is dat senorita?

(pause)

GK: Senorita, thank you.

FK: Please forgive my misunderstanding.

GK: I will. My name is Grace Kane. I’m from the paper.

FK: Eet ees very pleasing to meet you, Senorita Kane.

GK: And you too Mr.- or is that Captain Karnage?

FK: Si. Capitan. At least… I used to be until…

(sigh)

FK (cont’d): Kit. Kit Clownkicker. My former protégé. I took him in as an orphan thinking I’d have an heir…. instead, the smart-alecky juvenile delinquitiwink BETRAYED ME!

(FK takes a moment to control himself. GK grabs a rusted folding chair and makes herself comfortable.)

FK: (cont’d): I did not mean to be… Karnage, yo estupido!

 

GK: Anything else you’d like to mention?

 

(long pause)

 

FK: Mi papa was a pirate before me. And his papa… De applesauce doesn’t spring far from de tree.

 

GK: And so it didn’t take long for you to get into it?

FK: No. I wanted to make dem proud of me. When mi mama….

bursts into tears, tries to turn away from her*  
FK (cont’d): When she died… I couldn't ha-handle eet. She was. . . a pirate too. . . a seafa-faring one, she told me, until de ye-year I was born. My cutlass…was he-hers. She gave eet to m-me. De day she deed, I pro-promised her I’d use eet w-well.  
sobs, covering his face with his paws*  
I was dieciocho. . . when…I decided. . . I couldn't handle de pain anymore. I delieeberately flew within sight of de cliff gunners.  
'Eet's Karnage! Get heem!' I heard over de intercom. I deedn't care, I was ready. I wanted dem to shoot.I I pushed de plane to full speed een a dive-bomb attack and waited. Den I heard another voice. 'Suicide! Hold your fire! ' Dey were right!"

 

GK: How old were you when she died?

 

FK: I…I was only ocho!

 

GK: I’m so sorry!

 

FK: My fault…fue mi culpa…. (my entire fault)

 

GK: How?

 

FK: I was doing de plunderings and piratics all for her…. En memoria. (in her memory)

 

(GK stands, examines her watch.)

 

GK: Damn! I have to go. I have a…. physics lecture to take notes on.

 

FK: Entiendo. (Understood.)

 

GK: …Before I go: By any chance have you heard the name of Luciano diVenazetti? The Dogfather?

 

(Karnage bows on one knee.)

 

FK: Si!

 

(GK checks her watch again)

 

GK: I’d better go now before I’m late…Thank you so much!

 

(GK exits.)

End of transcript 1.


	3. Chapter Three

Luciano diVenazetti, Don and Dogfather of the house of Venazetti, was growing restless. Luciano was a striking creature; half Doberman and half husky, with coarse jet fur, auburn-brown eyes that appeared scarlet, with a huge, muscular frame. He dressed casually, in a vest made from the pelts of his various murder victims, and a black ascot. Flared gray dress pants covered his legs and hips.

 

Today the Dogfather was sitting at a long mahogany table, surrounded by his beloved all-dog mob, a khaki overcoat draped over his out-of-place maroon wing chair.

 

“Vinnie, get me that paper.”

Wordlessly, Vincent Collieone handed Luciano the previous week’s issue of the Cape Suzette Envoy. He smirked visibly as he read the cover story.

“Hah. So Karnie is in trouble again! The foolish boy must learn to respect his elders.”

This evoked nervous laughter all around.

“And where am I?”

Vinnie swallowed.

“er…. Uh….You got a mention on page 3A of the July 20th issue.”

“JULY 20th?!”

“Damnation. That was ages ago! Look at this no-good scoundrel. He steals all of our publicity and makes us look like a bunch of clumsy fools!”

There were murmurs of discontent.

“Er, boss.”

“Hmm?”

Luciano felt a small paw tug his sleeve. It was one of the mob’s younger members, Paul Vincenzo, the Jack Russell cross.

“When you planted me in the Envoy building today I heard that a…Grace Kane went to the slammer. T’interview Karnie.”

Luciano’s eyes widened like twin copper pennies.

“She did?”

“Aye, aye, boss. Y’want me to trail her?”

“Yes. But only when I say the time is right…..”

Luciano folded his paws and surveyed the grim scene. All eyes were on him now.

“Were any of you fat pups here a year ago when Karnage double-crossed me?”

A few paws went up.

“As to you others…Karnage….greedy, clever bastard he is- stole the jewel to make the lightning gun. The jewel that I could have used to my own advantage!”

Paul, who acted as spokesdog for the other junior members, nervously asked

“What you gonna do boss?”

Luciano laughed and put a muscled paw on Paul’s scrawny shoulder.

“Hah! Paul do you have a brain in your head? You cannot trust a wolf- Karnage is one- and look at what he did to us! Starting by October I will select one of you….”

An evil grin unfolded on Luciano’s face.

“To bring me back his head!”

Reaching for a square-shaped rosewood box, Luciano withdrew a cigar with a flourish. Vinnie immediately leaned forward with a lighter so that his boss could have a smoke.

The Dogfather took a drag, breathed it in, and turned to face Paul.

“Find Grace Kane. Find her and watch her.”

 

 

"....And in theory; that is why there is another universe parallel to ours, but we will never reach it."

 

The lecture hall at St. Darren's University was a circular, rosewood-paneled room with matching desks and seats, that curved around the room like a circle within a circle. Max had sent Grace here to take notes for a side story, but boredom had overtaken her and she'd fallen asleep in the first ninety minutes.

The German Shepherd sat slumped over on her polished-rosewood desk, her head brushed up against her leather-bound notepad, a puddle of drool sneaking onto the edges of her looseleaf pages. Grace's fedora had fallen forward over her eyes, and to the students around her she was dead to the world.

"Hey. Hey miss. Wake up; it's time to go."

"Huhmm....what?"

Grace blearily sat up and rubbed her eyes, frantically rubbing pooled saliva off her notepad.

"Damn."

She muttered under her breath and collected her papers.

"Thank you."

She said courteously to the handsome young leopard who had woken her up.

Collecting the remainder of her things, Grace apologized to the professor, a squat middle-aged goat who had done the lecture, and hurried out the door. St. Darren's was Cape Suzette's first college, built back in 1835 and remained the alma matter of choice for a majority of local students considering their college options.

Grace herself had not gone there though; her own alma mater had been McAllister's Female's College (class of 1930) , which had now been converted into a middle school with the advent of universities for both sexes.

Vague memories of her college days playing at the back of her mind, Grace entered the hallway. St. Darren's had a lot of corridors, being an old school, and new visitors were easily lost without a guide.

Grace had been there however, for her cousin Wallace's college graduation party, and had a vague map of what the facility looked like and was able to navigate well enough.

 

By the time Grace was out, a variety of cars were emptying out of the lot, and the afternoon sky had faded to a lavender-pink blaze of sunset, the sun itself a grand copper sphere.

Humming, Grace crossed the street and headed for home. Although as she did, the dog began to get the curious feeling that she was being....Watched by something unseen.

 

The feeling mounted as she was a block away from home (31 Gorilla Bird Drive) and Grace ran, suddenly panicking. Her pursuer, whoever they were was getting closer and their intent was not good..... The feeling reached its tipping point as Grace entered a nearby alley.

 

"Freeze, damnit!"

 

Grace was caught completely off-guard when a wiry paw grabbed her coat collar and shoved her into the wall.

 

"Who the hell are you?!"

 

She snapped, gazing into the face of a small terrier mutt who couldn't have been older than his mid twenties. The other dog did not answer Grace's snarled inquiry. Instead, he pressed the barrel of his pistol into Grace's temple and tapped her skull with it.

 

"You talk to me or I'll shoot."

 

His voice was like ice.

 

"Both of us can play that game."

 

Grace admonished coolly. She managed to knock the gun from the terrier's paw and held both pistols to his head.

 

"Tell me why you stalked me; you pervert!"

 

He just grinned, a vulgar, sick little smile.

 

"You seem like a tough little bitch. The more the better."

 

He snatched the gun back.

 

"All of this was a....a test."

 

He dashed out of the alley. The only other words to exit his mouth were:

 

"Luciano sent me."

 

Grace's heart skipped a beat. Luciano. Luciano diVenazetti. The Dogfather.

 

And with that, the terrier took off.

 

"Hey! Wait!"

 

Grace tried to follow, and for a while, she could. But he was far too fast for her, and he disappeared into a maze of side streets. She knew with a heavy heart that she'd never find the little prick.

 

Feeling angry and upset with herself, Grace had little else to do than to drag herself home.

 

Upon getting home, Grace exhaustedly worked on her typewriter for a few hours, made a gorilla bird breast for dinner, and treated herself to a hot bath before finally going to bed at 11:30.

 

In bed, Grace held a small photograph of her parents in her paws; taken sometime in '11. Both of them had died in a TB epidemic on the tail-end of 1912, when she was just five. Grace could just barely remember them and sorely wished she did. Having nowhere else to go, Grace had stayed in the company of neighbor ladies for several days after her parents' death before moving in with her Aunt September and Uncle Jason in the country.

 

They'd been very nice to her and helped fund her college education too. But nonetheless Grace still wished she knew her parents. Turning off the light at her bedside, Grace examined her grinning three-year-old face one more time before setting it aside. This was going to be a hell of a long night.


	4. Chapter Four

Grace was awoken the following morning by the nonstop ringing of her alarm clock.

“Mhmmm….”

 

She moaned and turned it off. Grace had just barely staggered out of bed when her telephone in the library began to ring incessantly.

 

She waited a full minute. It kept ringing.

 

“Damnit I’m coming!”

 

Grace yelled, throwing on a bathrobe and loping into the adjoining room. The phone was situated on a mahogany pedestal away from the bookshelves, Grace fumbled with the receiver for a moment but then grasped it.

 

“Grace Kane speaking. Who is this?”

 

“Gracie, baby! Good morning!”

 

Grace cringed. She almost wished she hadn’t asked. It was Max, and she could almost smell his tobacco-scented breath over the other end of the line. (Max was an avid cigar smoker, but Grace was not. Lung disease ran in her family)

 

“Er…Hi Max. 7:00 on the dot’s awfully early for you to be calling.”

 

“Yeah, I know but I got good news!”

 

“Oh?”

 

“The warden told me that Karnage has some information on Luciano diVenazetti!”

 

“I know. Karnage told me that himself.”

 

“Gracie, I want you to KEEP talking to Karnage. Because there’s a LOT of potential to break this story WIDE OPEN….We could even be….”

 

“Famous.”

 

Grace knew Max so well she could easily finish his sentences. It was Max’s pipe dream to become the most famous newspaperbeast in the city, and whenever he talked about it he suddenly became just another little boy at a fancy birthday party.

 

“Yes! Famous!”

 

Not wanting for Max to continue with his infamous rambles, Grace intervened.

 

“When do you want me at the building?”

 

“Er…Half an hour is good.”

 

“Half an hour?”

 

“Yeah!”

 

“Max? Max?”

 

Too late. Max had hung up. With a heavy sigh, Grace dragged herself from the library and hurried off to change into something decent.

 

By the time Grace got to the Envoy building, Max was sitting at his desk per usual, attempting to play a commercial jingle on his ancient harmonica. Max might have been handsome in his younger days; but those days were long bygone. Now he was just a brown-eyed, sable ferret in a double-breasted teal business suit. Who was a few pounds overweight.

 

"Oh Max, I have what you want!"

Grace called sweetly, and threw him a neatly-tied bundle containing the original notes she'd taken herself. Max scanned it and gave her a look of dissatisfaction.

"Gracie, sweetie your handwriting is chicken scratch!"

 

Grace smiled innocently.

 

"Which is also why I brought you THIS!"

 

She handed Max the typewritten transcript which he studied with an eager eye.

 

"Thanks Gracie, you're a doll. I'll see you after the interview."

 

With a wink, Grace trotted out of the building and headed for the prison.

 

~

 

Meanwhile, at Luciano's private compound, the Dragon's Lair (formerly an abandoned hotel) Things were not going nearly as well. The mob was reassembled around the conference table once again, and Luciano had arranged for Paul to sit beside him. Once news of the mongrel's failure had reached him, Luciano was not a happy camper, but no one dared to mention such a statement aloud.

 

"Paul......You did not do what you were told."

 

There was almost pity in Luciano's voice as he stared coldly at the runty dog.

"B-but b-b-boss! K-Kane was b-bigger and she'd have---"

 

"I DON'T CARE IF SHE ATE YOUR TAIL OFF!"

 

Luciano roared, cocking his revolver.

 

"You failed me Paul. And in my Family there is only room for perfection."

 

"N-no boss! Spare me! I'll do better! I'll ---"

 

What Paul's last words were supposed to be, nobeast knew. His pitiful life was cut short as the bullet sped from Luciano's gun with a resounding BANG!

 

It sliced straight through the mutt's temple and he died almost instantly.

"To the rest of you fuck-ups....We meet again at lunchtime. I will select another one of you to follow Grace Kane and if I do not see perfection you'll end up like him!"

Luciano pointed at Paul's corpse with his gun.

 

Turning to face his coroner, Luciano whispered:

"Stuff him and mount him."

 

Hurriedly, the dog dragged out Paul's body, and the door clicked shut a moment later. All was silent now in the Dragon's Lair. Luciano simply sat there in the darkened conference room, calmly smoking his cigar and dreaming about how much he'd love to defile Grace Kane.

 

Upon reaching the prison, the cell block seemed much drearier than usual. The lone harmonica player had ceased, and what few prisoners remained sat quietly in their cells, reading old newspapers or crumbling books. The rest were evidently out in the courtyard, exercising. Don Felipe Karnage did not have that privilege being in solitary.

 

Walking down, Grace passed a cell of two hyenas. They laughed their trademark laugh at her but then shut up when she glared at them.

 

“Hello? Karnage?”

 

The wind whistled through the room as Grace loped to Karnage’s cell. She was met by a faint, broken sobbing. When she got there, the wolf was lying on his bunk with his back to her. He did not turn to face her or even sit up as she arrived.

 

“Karnage, what the hell happened?”

 

Although Grace could not see him, Karnage looked significantly gaunter than jail time had already made him, and his fur was coated with tears both fresh and drying. His sides rose and fell heavily as he tried to keep from sobbing afresh.

 

“S-S-Senorita K-Kane?”

 

Karnage’s words were barely coherent; his voice was raw and choked with pain, and shaking like the rest of him. He murmured

 

“Por mi familia.”

 

and still did not turn. Grace was silent.

 

“Mi familia debe seguir siendo seguro.” (My family must remain safe)

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

“Hay que protegerlos.” (They must be protected) The wolf turned his head on the pillow just a little. His eyes were red-rimmed. “S-Senorita Kane…could you please…..please…leave?”

 

Grace hesitated.

 

“Is it important?”

 

“Eeet’s a ma-matter of….life….and death…”

 

He began crying again.

 

“I….I understand. But are you certain?”

 

“Si.”

 

“Then I should go. You’ll probably want your privacy.”

 

Hurriedly, Grace wiped away hasty tears with the back of her paw and left the cell block. Karnage remained in his bunk, braiding a makeshift noose that had been torn from his bedsheet.

 

“I’m co-coming, mamá!”

 

Upon leaving the prison, Grace promptly returned to the Envoy building to give Max the news. Flinging open the door with a BANG; she ran to Max’s office door. It was mahogany and had his name in black paneled lettering:

 

M CAVANAUGH

 

HEAD EDITOR

Grace’s own office was next door and read:

 

G KANE

 

JOURNALIST/PHOTOGRAPHER

 

“Hey.”

She greeted him.

Max’s office was an elegant eyesore. It was decorated with his large mahogany desk, a goose-neck lamp, two maple bookcases, and two narrow picture windows at the back. Grace plopped down in one of the cushioned and gave Max the appropriate eye contact as he said:

 

“Hey. How did it go?”

 

Grace grimaced.

 

“Karnage wouldn’t talk. Oh well. There’s always…tomorrow?”

 

“Tomorrow is good.”

 

Grace glanced at Max’s desk, noticing a large bottle of wine sat atop it. Noticing her curious expression, Max laughed.

“It’s for us. If you wanted to toast of course.”

 

Grace smiled. Wine sounded good to her.

 

“I do.”

 

Max produced two crystal goblets, giving them an equal amount of pale white wine. They clinked glasses, saying in unison:

 

“Kane and Cavanaugh; partners in journalism ‘till the end!”

 

Grace eagerly sipped the wine. Moments later, she gagged, grabbing her throat in her paws. The wine tasted TOO sour; like sugary lemonade mixed with bile. It was a miracle she didn’t vomit on the spot.

 

“Max….Did you make this yourself?!”

Grace choked.

“Not that I’m insulting your cooking!”

She quickly added.

 

Max smiled.

“It’s crabapple wine. Gracie, baby, we’re in a depression! Live a little!”

 

“Sometimes I don’t want to.”

 

She muttered darkly.

“Do you have any other assignments for me?”

 

Max shook his head.

 

“No. You can go home.”

 

Grace sighed in relief and headed out of the office.

 

 

Upon walking in the door, Grace plopped onto her ancient horsehair sofa and turned on the radio to the popular soap opera, Blood and water that she LOVED to hate.

“Oh Bob, oh Bob.”

Grace mocked the radio as the show came on, with its overzealous drama and paper-thin, superfluous characters.

 

“I know you could never take it if your Vivian rejected you.”

Grace flinched as the nearby telephone (situated on the coffee table) began to ring.

 

She hesitantly picked it up.

 

“Hello is this Grace Kane?”

 

The voice on the other line was young, and very unfamiliar. Grace flinched.

 

“Yes it is. With whom am I speaking?”

 

There was a long pause on the other end of the line and Grace thought she head a scream.

 

“M-Melina Davidson; from the county jail.”

 

Grace’s heart skipped a beat. Why on earth would the prison be calling at this hour?

“Miss Kane, we n-need you here ASAP. There’s been a suicide attempt.”

 

No.

 

“What?!”

 

Melina began to cry.

 

“Who attempted??” Grace screamed even though she thought she knew.

 

“FELIPE KARNAGE!”

 

On the other end the phone was dropped.

 

“Hello???? Hello???”

 

The static blasted, but after a while this Melina picked up again.

 

“Miss Kane, get down here as soon as you can….You WERE the last beast to associate with Karnage and we don’t know if he’ll make it or not.”

 

Grace shakily threw on her light coat.

 

“How did Karnage attempt?”

 

“H-he hung himself! Used a strip of bedsheet as a noose!”

 

“Damnit…I’ll be right there!!!!”

 

The dog hung up.

 

With the fervency of a madbeast, Grace shut off the radio and hurried out the door.


	5. Chapter Five

Grace entered the prison infirmary and glanced around. It was an old, old room with peeling green wallpaper, and had several rows of brass-framed beds with stiff-looking mattresses, all of which were unoccupied save one towards the end holding Karnage. He had not been taken to a real hospital because the doctors had considered him far too gone for that, and said that he’d probably have died halfway there. The wolf lay sprawled on the bed; wearing an ancient nightshirt that was probably as old as he was.

Karnage’s chest barely rose and fell as he breathed, and to a casual observer he probably would’ve seemed dead. His neck was grotesquely swollen but did not seem to be broken or injured in any other way. On a chair beside the bed, Karnage’s famous blue coat had been draped over the back hastily. The rest of his clothes were in a small closet towards the front of the room. The more famous prisoners in the jail were granted the opportunity of having someone send them their clothes.

 

A pretty young black panther in a gray dress stood next to the wolf’s bed, a look of grief on her face. Grace silently wondered if this was the Melina she’d spoken to on the phone.

 

“Hi…are you…?”

 

The panther nodded.

 

“Yes; I’m Melina. I…I found this in the trash.”

 

She handed Grace a small piece of blank paper that looked as though it had been torn from a newspaper or a magazine. In translation it read:

‘For my family. I’m coming to you.’ –Felipe Alejandro Karnage

 

Grace’s eyes were blurred with stinging tears, but she kept quiet. After a while, Karnage moaned faintly on the bed and he seemed to be regaining consciousness.

 

Melina hurried to his side but not before intoning to Grace:

“I used to be a nurse here; I know what I’m doing.”

 

The wolf muttered some words Grace couldn’t discern, but Melinda shushed him.

 

“Don’t try to talk.”

 

Karnage limply shook his head and immediately gasped.

 

“I….need…to be getting thees out.”

 

Moments later he asked for water. Melina obliged, supporting the wolf’s head so he could drink. When that was done, Melina went back to Grace’s side. Grace leaned into the panther:

 

“Can….Karnage and I…spend some time alone?”

 

Grace choked. Melina smiled faintly.

 

“Of course. I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

 

Sobbing afresh, Grace went to Karnage’s side.

“Why did you do that?!”

 

“Luciano….De Dogfather….Threatened mi familia. Unless…… I was muerto," he rasped.

 

“I…..I’m so sorry.”

 

Karnage looked like he’d black out at any time, but was fighting to stay awake and even to speak.

 

“He has…..ears and eyes een here.”

 

“Is there anything I can do for you right now?”

 

“Si.” Karnage coughed.

 

“What?”

 

“Senorita Kane…..Do you know where Higher for Hire is?”

 

“Yes, I do.”

 

“Hand me that.” Karnage indicated his coat. Grace did. He jerked in pain but tore off a gold button and a small piece of royal blue fabric before handing the coat back to Grace. Then, wincingly, the wolf ripped out a tuft of his own fur. “Take thees there….Geev theem to a Keet Clownkicker. May I use your notepad…. Por favor?”

 

Wordlessly, Grace reached into her coat pocket and handed it to him.

 

Putting aside the cloth, button, and the scrap of fur, Karnage scrawled on one of Grace’s pages:

 

Don Felipe Alejandro Karnage

 

Taking back her notepad, Grace asked:

 

“What should I tell Kit for you?”

 

“‘Keet. Your old capitan needs help. Bring de bird to de Cape Suzette County Jail. Eets life…or death…for your capitan, my plundering protégé.' Karnage caught himself mid-thought. “No, I want to see heem face to face when I tell heem dat. Tell heem eenstead, por favor…. I’m sorry for everything I deed, and ask heem to come here."

 

She nodded gravely.

 

“I’ll…. I’ll tell him.”

 

"Palabras no son suficientes para gracias, Senorita Kane.”

 

He weakly squeezed Grace’s paw and handed her the paper, the piece of fur, the fabric and the button. She put the items in her pocket before saying:

 

“I’d probably better go. You look like you should rest, honestly.”

 

“Gracias," he croaked again.

 

Grace was not there when Felipe Karnage finally drifted into a sedated, peaceful sleep.

By the time Grace left the prison, the sky was black like dark pond water, with an ugly grayish tinge; and it was heavy with fat slate-colored clouds. Rain was falling steadily as she descended down the ancient red granite front steps. It looked so dark out, but surely it couldn’t be THAT late! Grace checked her watch. 5:30. Huh. It felt like much more time had passed while she’d visited the prison, but that was only a small matter. Right now her main task was to get to Higher for Hire. What the hell have I gotten roped into? She thought silently, shoving her paws into her pockets as she walked along the road.

Even though it wasn’t even six yet, very few creatures were on the streets and the few that were were scrambling to seek shelter from the ever-increasing downpour. Grace’s soaking coat clung to her dress and skirt, and she was shivering constantly. Oh how she HATED the rain!! Seeing a taxi drive down the street, Grace stuck out a finger and frantically attempted to hail it. “Taxi! Taxi!” She screamed. The driver pulled over. A moment later the window rolled down, revealing the driver as a mongoose somewhere in his mid-40’s.

“Where ya wanna go? And make it fast, lady. I ain’t got all day.” “Downtown. Higher for Hire’s office on Black Street.” She reached into her right pocket, grabbed her wallet and shakily paid the driver, a little more than was needed just so he would take her where she wanted to go. The mongoose studied the money eagerly before setting it aside; and Grace leapt into the backseat, closing the door behind her.

Neither the driver nor his charge talked much during the ride, and it gave Grace time to think. Why oh why had she agreed to run this errand for Karnage? Who knew where it was going to get her? She could get roped into some illegal criminal underground, or…. With her head slumped against the leather seat, Grace’s mind slowly began to wander. She was so exhausted it was hard to focus on one thing. Slowly, her brain gently dissuaded her from thinking about Karnage’s scheme and things that were just a little easier to deal with at this time. Like the rain.

Staring out the cab window at the black scenery and the heavily falling rain, Grace traced a single claw down the window. The storms of her very early childhood had been so different. Grace could still remember a few of the violent lightning storms from when she was just a puppy of only three or four. Thunder and lightning scared her far more then than they ever did now. If Grace was in bed at the time of the storm, she would crawl into her parents’ bedroom in the dark and sleep with them. If she was awake and not yet ready for bed, either one of Grace’s parents would sit her on their lap and rock her.

Grace vaguely remembered her father holding her paw gently and whispering: “It’s ok, Gracie. A little thunder and lightning out there isn’t going to hurt you.” After her parents died, everything changed. Aunt September and Uncle Jason were NOT the comforting type, and they encouraged Grace to face her fears rather than to submit and continue to be terrified by them. (This was hard, but admittedly it DID help) Her cousins, Abby and Noah (five and three when she first arrived at her aunt and uncle’s farm) loved storms and would beg to stay up late and watch them, and as the years went by occasionally Grace would get up her courage and ask, too.

Grace pitched forward in her seat as the cab squealed to a halt. “Awright…We’re here.” The driver announced, and Grace grudgingly threw the door open and exited the semi-warm taxi. “Thanks!!” She called out, which was the truth. “Thank me later.” The driver smirked, and drove off into the foggy darkness. Higher for Hire’s main office (and ONLY office) was a simple affair: Built of some form of dark pinewood, it might once have been a house of some sort and had a large turret at the top. Nice place. Grace ran up to the battered front door and frantically knocked on it. “Hello?!?!?! Anyone home???”

A few minutes later, the door was flung open and a young bear cub of maybe thirteen opened the door. He looked tough and compactly built, and had dark fur, a dark green jacket and light orange pants. “Hold your horses, ma’am. Who are you and what can I do for you?”

Grace smiled weakly. “I could say the same. I’m Grace Kane from the Envoy. Maybe you’ve heard of me. And what’s your name, young man?”

“Kit Cloudkicker, Miss Kane.” He smiled shyly but politely.

Kit. Grace’s heart skipped a beat in her chest. She would tell Kit about what Karnage had done as soon as possible, but first she’d better talk to his associates. “Can you take me to see a Rebecca Cunningham and a Baloo van Bruinwald?”

“Yes!” Kit brightened visibly. “Please come out of the rain, Miss. Their office is right down the hall.” After being led into a fairly nondescript entry hall, Kit meandered off to the left. “I’ll be upstairs.” He informed her. The chance to talk would have to wait, but Grace could handle that.

Walking down the hallway, she reached a paneled-glass office door much like hers and Max’s at the Envoy building. The flat black letters read: REBECCA CUNNINGHAM AND BALOO VAN BRUINWALD, HIGHER FOR HIRE LTD. This was it. Grace’s heart was beginning to throb in her chest. She brought her fist to the door and knocked feebly. A slim and well-dressed female bear in a maroon business suit opened the door. She smiled warmly at Grace. “Hello, how can I help you?”

“Miss Cunningham?” Grace stuck out her paw. “I’d like to speak with you and Mr. Bruinwald of an urgent matter, if I may. My name is Grace Kane- I’m from the local paper.”

Rebecca smiled warmly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss Kane! I’ve heard great things about you and I’ve read some of your stories. Please, come on in.”

Rebecca and Baloo’s office was a pleasant train wreck. A large filing cabinet took up most of the far left corner, and the wall was covered with newspaper clippings, criminal mugshots and posters advertising commercial products. Baloo’s metal desk sat in the center of the room, along with an out-of-place, overstuffed red armchair. A wastebasket was full of dirty typewriter paper and ribbon, and Rebecca’s desk sat clean and proper on the far right. Baloo himself was busy reading the paper. He was a tall, well-built black bear in a khaki jacket, white suit pants and a red hat with a black brim. Sitting on the floor and playing with a toy car was a young bear cub who was maybe seven. She had pale blondish fur, warm brown eyes, and wore a fading pink shirt and blue overalls covered with what seemed to be dirt and grass stains from playing outside. “

Baloo!” Rebecca called. “This is Miss Grace Kane from the Envoy!”

“Well hey!” Baloo’s voice was deep, booming and vibrant. Grace instantly liked it; and she found herself smiling as she rose from the nearest swivel chair to shake his paw.

“I really don’t like being the one to bring bad news but… I do have some bad news. From the county jail.”

Baloo and Rebecca both winced, almost simultaneously. Turning to the young bear on the floor, Rebecca said “Molly why don’t you go find Kit in the playroom?”

“Ok mommy.” Molly scowled, picked up her toys and exited the room.

Rebecca turned now to smile apologetically at Grace. “These days it’s hard to find a good babysitter; so we installed a playroom for Molly upstairs.”

“She seems like a very sweet young girl.” Rebecca smiled warmly as Grace complimented her daughter. After a moment the dog straightened with a visible effort. Her voice shook and tears shone in her eyes. “Any-anyway… The ba-bad news is…. Don Fe-Felipe Karna-nage atte-attempted suicide this aft-afternoo-noon.”

 

The office, which had previously been so fun and upbeat, suddenly went as silent as a tomb. A tomb they all silently hoped would not be Karnage's.

 

Rebecca stared at Grace with hard, damp eyes.

 

"How did it happen?"

 

Grace sighed.

 

"He hung himself in his cell."

 

The silence seemed to deepen. Rebecca and Baloo had a whispered meeting with each other for a moment.

 

"Baloo are you certain she's...?"

 

"Yep, Beckers."

He sighed exhaustedly.

 

"It's Karnie."

 

Baloo turned away, wanting to deal with this alone. Karnage was the enemy of everyone at Higher for Hire; but it had always been a simple rivalry and nothing more. Yes, Karnage was a criminal and an uptight one at that but he had never really wished death on his enemies and neither had they wished it on him.

 

And all of this had started over a jewel; a jewel that first had been stolen from Luciano by Karnage, then lost by Karnage's dim-witted goons and fallen into businessbeast Shere Khan's possession. Everyone had wanted that jewel and now look at what it had all caused.

 

"Why, Karnie?! Why the hell did you do that??" Baloo mused from the corner.

 

Grace sighed exhaustedly. "I could have said the same."

 

In the hallway, a faint child's whimper could be heard. Then a sound of paws on wood and a scampering upstairs.

 

"Molly must've been eavesdropping."

 

Rebecca winced.

 

She was right. Molly had indeed been listening, and had gone upstairs to tell Kit what had transpired. An awkward silence unfurled over the room like a dark and unfriendly flag.

 

It was minutes later when the door opened and Kit walked in.

"Papa bear, what happened!??"

He ran to Baloo for comfort, obviously still in shock. Baloo hugged the younger bear gently.

 

Grace looked at him expectantly before turning to the others.

 

"I'm sorry for everything I've caused. I was dragged into this just the way you were really."

 

Turning back to Kit, Grace said:

 

"Can I talk to you privately?"

 

Kit nodded and the two of them walked to the end of the hall.

 

"I just came from the county jail. I saw your old captain."

 

Kit wiped at his eyes.

 

"Y-you did? How was he?"

 

Grace winced. "Not so good, he could barely even talk." She reached into her pocket and handed Kit what Karnage had instructed she hand over. "Here. He told me to give you these- Probably didn't want you to think it was some sick poser." Grace sighed. "Your old comrade has quite the ego. I'll give him that much...but who am I to rant at a time like this? Karnage asked for you. You wanna go see him, kid?"

 

Grace watched Kit's face worriedly. Kit took a deep breath.

 

"Yes. I will. He was....he was my captain. Even if we have gone separate ways now."

 

Kit reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a tattered red bandanna, tying it around his neck.

 

"He gave this to me about a year ago now."

 

"How long were you with the Pirates?"

 

"A year."

 

"You're real brave, kid."

 

Kit blushed visibly. "One of these days as soon as I'm eighteen I'm going to work here- for real."

 

"That's a great dream. My father...my father always said.... if you have a dream, then go and chase it'"

Grace's voice broke now.

 

"I...I'd better go."

 

Clutching his navigator's cap in one paw and Karnage's mismatched artifacts in another, Kit ran up the nearest staircase into Molly's playroom.

 

Grace stuffed her paws into her pocket and glanced back at Baloo and Rebecca's office door.

 

"I've really caused a lot of shit today...."

 

With angst on her mind and a heavy heart in her chest, Grace departed Higher for Hire. Something told her Kit was definitely on his way to see Karnage. She silently hoped that there would be a middle ground for them both.

 

Kit Cloudkicker was a real bundle of nerves as he walked down the hallway to the infirmary at the Cape Suzette County Jail. He knew that Baloo and Rebecca probably wouldn’t worry about him- he’d left a note saying where he was going and when he’d be back, but what DID worry him was how his first ‘friendly’ meeting with Karnage in a whole year was going to go.

 

What would Baloo say if he were here? “You can do it, Little Britches! I know you can make your Papa Bear proud.” It was this kind of encouragement from his mentor and father figure that made Kit feel like he could do anything. So he needed to toughen up and do this. Karnage wouldn’t have sent for him without a reason.

 

Don’t be a wimp, Cloudkicker. You can do this. Kit knocked twice on the infirmary door. A nervous-looking panther opened it.

 

“Hello, are you Kit?”

 

“Yes!”

 

“Felipe asked for you…I’ll leave you two alone.”

 

And with that, she walked out and Kit walked in, closing the squeaky door behind him.

 

You can do this!

 

Kit strode across the room to Karnage’s bed. The wolf could have looked a lot worse given the circumstances, but he looked better now then when Grace had visited, and comfortably propped up on a few tattered pillows.

However, there was a vaguely unfocused look to Karnage’s eyes- He’d been given a mild sedative while Grace was out, but insisted he was still strong enough for another visit.

 

“Keet? My protégé…”

 

Karnage smiled, revealing wolf’s fangs. His smile was oddly sad.

 

“C-Captain?”

 

“Baloo’s raised a wonderful boy.”

 

Keet blushed a little and Karnage noticed.

 

“Come here, por favor.”

He indicated the space beside the bed. Kit took a few steps ahead and stopped there. Karnage hugged him gently and even tried to sit up, but was too weak still. Kit hugged him back- it felt like the embrace of a father with his estranged child, which were essentially what the wolf and the bear cub were.

 

After Karnage released Kit, he said: “Baloo isn’t de only one proud of you.”

 

Kit was a little taken aback.

 

“You’re still proud of me after all this time?”

 

“Si!” Karnage paused a moment, gathering his thoughts. “Keet… I deed this because… mi familia was threatened.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “You know de jewel I used to make de lightning gun?”

 

Kit nodded somberly. “Aye.”

 

“Before those estupid eediots Dumptruck and Gibber lost it to Shere Khan… I stole de jewel from Luciano diVenazetti. He threatened mi familia unless I was…muerto. That’s why I……attempted.”

 

“Do you regret it though?”

 

“Si. Keet, he’s not going to stop unteel either I’m dead or he is, one.”

 

Kit knew he wanted to hear more.

 

“So what are you gonna do, Captain?”

 

“Bring me….de bird.”

 

Karnage could only mean the air carrier, the Iron Vulture. This was going to be a big job.

 

“When?”

 

“As soon as possible. He has ears and eyes een de prison… Dat’s why…”

 

Karnage rubbed at his throat and winced.

 

Kit grimaced himself.

 

“How’s your throat?”

 

“Eeet steel hurts.” Karnage took a moment to get his breath. “But let us be putting dat aside us. Tell de crew dere captain sent you. Eef dey question you; threaten dem with de turnips and sandpaper.”

 

Kit gulped. The turnips and the sandpaper was one of Karnage’s most infamous torture methods. Rumor has it the sound of the vegetable being rubbed against the rough paper for too long could drive a fragile beast insane. “Anything else you wanna tell me?”

 

Karnage paused. “I’ve never been so afraid een my life unteel…” He mouthed the words ‘the Dogfather’.

 

“Does he know you’re alive?”

 

“No. And I want eet to stay dat way. Can you get me de bird? Dis one time?”

 

Kit took a deep breath and thought about it. The angel on his right shoulder said that he shouldn’t help Karnage because he was a criminal and a dangerous beast. The devil on his left shoulder told him, Yes! You have to help Karnage because he used to be like a father, and a teacher to you. The poor beast almost died today. Surely it wouldn’t be so bad to help him out one more time….

 

In the end, Kit went with the devil as many creatures will often do. But only this once, as Karnage had said himself. A truce between former allies, but a temporary one at best.

 

“I’ll do it.”

 

Karnage exhaled in relief. “Gracias, Keet.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

The young bear squeezed Karnage’s paw.

 

Karnage squeezed back and looked at Kit with happy tears.

 

“I’ll see you later, Captain.”

 

Kit headed towards the infirmary door. Karnage turned his head to look at him one more time.

 

“Adios, Keet. Muchas gracias.”

 

Shortly after he spoke, the sedative took effect, and Karnage fell asleep a happy wolf. For now.


	6. Chapter Six

Grace herself had gone ever further downtown in the crappy weather; to the East Branch public library, on a mission. She wanted to dig up information on criminal records, specifically Luciano’s.  
If she could get a hold of them, they’d surely be in the archives section.

 

The library itself was a monstrous, gothic revival type building with long, arching spires, three long wings, and a massive, gaping double door that looked like a muzzle over the mouth of a ferocious beast. Grace was still shivering with the dampness as she approached the door. It had two broad windows, and two matching lions-head knockers.

 

Instead of using one of the knockers, Grace simply eased one part of the door open, slipped inside, and closed it behind her. The library’s main room was a warm, cheerful place that in some ways resembled the lobby of an out-of-the-way hotel. The wallpaper was a faint shade of pink, mahogany bookshelves lined the left and right corners of the room, and there were various elegant couches and chairs for visitors to sit on. Stained-glass picture windows lined a few spaces on the wall.

 

In the center of the main room, there was a circular desk where the librarians worked, and to the left and right of the desk were the imperial staircases that led up to the second floor. Grace adjusted her coat, and walked past the desk, murmuring a “Hi.” to the librarians as she went.

Keeping a good grip on the mahogany railing, Grace went up the marble staircase, They were hollow, and her paws echoed on them as she went up.

 

The landing, a transition area between the first floor and the second, was not as impressive as the front room. Its walls were painted a sickly green, and there were two hallways that branched off, a newly-installed elevator, and a narrow, winding set of stairs that led to everyone’s least favorite room in the library: The archives.

 

Grace had to push by a few passing creatures as she made her way to the next set of stairs. Hopefully they have at least SOMETHING on Luciano…. She thought anxiously as she approached them. They were significantly less grander than the other set; and were made of some narrow, cheap kind of wood.

 

There were ten steps in all, and then Grace reached a flimsy metal door. She opened it and silently closed it behind her.

 

The archives themselves were a cold, forbidding room. The room itself was painted a deep, rich shade of mahogany, and there were three narrow windows throughout the room. The room was crowded with desks, chairs, filing cabinets, and bookcases. All of which had been donated by one creature or another; and contained personal records on more than one famous criminal mind, it was rumored. Grace fervently hoped they would have SOMETHING on Luciano.

 

Even though material in the archives was rarely looked at by the beasts who filed and organized them, and could not be checked out, Grace decided that she would give this a shot.

 

Grace spent the next hour sitting at a narrow maple desk, with a lamp beside her, thumbing through ALL the D files she’d removed from one of the cabinets.

 

“Donovan…..Dewitt….. Danforth….”

 

But no diVenazetti. Not even one. Fuming in exasperation, Grace got up and returned the files to the appropriate cabinet and began looking next through the labeled photographs, and birth/death certificates. Again, nothing.

 

I really should just go home.

 

Grace thought, and had risen from her desk when a certain, novel-length manila folder caught her eye. It had been discarded on top of one of the filing cabinets, and there was a simple, typewritten label on it: KARNAGE.

 

“I’ll be damned…..”

 

Grace breathed; her voice a barely audible whisper. As though in a trance, she grabbed that file and hurried back to her desk before someone else read it.

 

Upon opening the file, Grace found a SLEW of information: Ancient family photographs, clippings from underground tabloid papers, and three sheaves of crumbling birth certificates.

 

Who the hell donated all of this?

 

The thought of that was more than a little creepy, so Grace tread around it, and took a glance at the birth certificates. The first one she’d been expecting.

 

Felipe Alejandro Karnage

 

February 10th, 1908

But the other two she had not been.

 

Rosa Lupe Karnage

 

May 8th, 1906

 

And then:

 

Helena Evita Karnage

 

January 21st, 1904

 

Both certificates listed their parents as Theresa and Pablo Karnage. So Karnage had had siblings! Grace silently wondered why he’d never mentioned them and laid the birth certificates aside, also noting that the siblings’ place of birth was listed as some town called Karnageport.

 

Obviously they’d had at least SOME degree of prominence there, but Grace had never heard the name in her life before today, so she was under the assumption that the town was extremely isolated.

 

Based on several photographs she saw, indeed it was. Karnageport was far from any sort of civilization, hidden in a large, dominating pine forest. Based on a few old newspaper articles, the Karnages had been the ruling clan since the 1770’s, and no one dared to challenge their self-imposed iron fists.

 

When she was done looking at photographs of the decidedly odd little town and its grim-looking residents, Grace decided to see if any family photos were available.

 

She found one, dated 1915. In it, three well-groomed but mischievous looking wolf pups sat, two standing and another one in a chair. Two of them were dark-colored, and another seemed white. The white one seemed to be the oldest so Grace guessed she had to be Helena.

 

Karnage himself, who had to be around seven, was wearing a black or brown coat, and matching, short-cropped pants of the same color, as well as a short tie. Rosa was dressed in a white dress with a darker sash, and with a short skirt and fluffy sleeves. The smile on her face, despite the stiff formality of the photograph was undeniable. Then there was Helena.

 

Only around eleven when the picture was taken, she had the makings of a truly gorgeous wolf. In sharp contrast against her white fur, Helena wore a long black evening gown with a long, narrow skirt, a thick beaded sash, and was sleeveless; with shoulder straps instead. Grace also noticed that one of Helena’s eyes was pale and the other dark, meaning that she probably had had odd eyes. (two different colors)

 

They all seemed like lovely children, but Grace had a feeling of unease as she looked through other photographs. The 1915 one was the latest photo in the collection, and she found several others featuring Pablo and/or Theresa, or just the three Karnage siblings themselves, either as tiny pups or older children.

 

All in all they seemed like such a normal, pleasant family if not very very well-to-do.

 

And then Grace found the death certificate:

 

Theresa Cristina Abano Karnage

 

Died September 9th, 1916 of unnatural causes.

 

That was it. No listed cause of death beyond that and Grace suddenly felt very uneasy.

 

This feeling only mounted when she found an issue of the Karnageport Enquirer dated August 4th, 1920.

 

The headline screamed: DON PABLO ACCUSED OF SEXUAL ABUSE?!

 

Grace’s heart began to pound as she read the article, which claimed that the Karnage’s home (which she’d learned from the photos had been nothing less than an 18th century white elephant) had been investigated on allegations of sex abuse, but nothing had been found.

 

And then Grace found it: Floral, crumbling pages that seemed to have been ripped from the private sanctum of Helena’s diary.

 

April 12th, 1919

 

He touched me again today. I screamed and cried but that son of a bitch STILL touched me and I cried even more. Then he made me get under him, and no one ever heard my screaming. I’m such a coward. I need to run away and take Felipe and Rosa with me. Could we do it? How would we do it? I need to find out. We need to get out of this hellhole or maybe we’ll be here till we die.

 

 

April 19th, 1919

 

It’s a miracle I can even hold a pencil let alone write in you today, dear diary. Felipe, Rosa and I tried to get out by climbing the wall last week- I guess this is the end of the Dragon Wall Game- and He came out (drunk of course) and found us. He beat Felipe and Rosa on the spot with a two-by-four, the way he always does when they’ve misbehaved, but not me. I wasn’t lucky this time. He pulled out his gun and screamed something like “You whore, Helena! Why can’t you obey the rules you filthy cunt?!” “They don’t either, motherfucker!” I screamed, and Felipe tried to reason with Him (being the favorite), but it didn’t work. The last thing I can remember was the bullet going through my left arm.

 

My brother and sister begged Him to get me a doctor, but he refused and said I just had a cut. According to them I’ve been in and out of consciousness on the parlor sofa for the past week, and Rosa had removed the bullet with a wet towel. Why didn’t I die? I really wish I had now. I’m not His slave, and if I live to grow up then damnit I never will be.

 

-Helena

 

Grace was just about to put the file away; her eyes dampened with tears, until one more document caught her eye. Here is the full text:

 

DEATH CERTIFICATE

Name: Helena Evita Karnage

Date of birth: January 21st, 1904

Species: Wolf

Date of death: February 12th, 1928

 

Cause of death: Gunshot wound to the chest, self-inflicted

 

Next-of-kin: Felipe, Rosa and Pablo Karnage

Cert. number: 894405

 

Grace could not bear to read any longer. Her eyes dampened with fresh tears, she put the contents of the file back in their manila folder. But as she did, she noticed something there that she hadn’t before. Written in small writing on the packet were the words:

 

DONATED TO THE EAST BRANCH PUBLIC LIBRARY BY DON PABLO KARNAGE, AUG. 1929

 

Putting the file back where she’d found it, Grace hurried out of the library and checked her watch. It was now 6:42. She’d spent far more time at the library than she’d intended; and it was now closing time- the library sometimes did close early in the fall.

 

The feeling of anguish she’d felt upon leaving Higher for Hire had only doubled now; and she cursed her instinctive curiosity for delving into the Karnage file. It had truly been heartbreaking to learn about all those vile family secrets, but Grace felt that they weren’t hers to discover; and that maybe she should have left the file alone.

 

Then again, when Pablo had donated the file to the archive surely he’d done so with the concept that creatures would be looking at it. So at least it was somewhat justifiable. All in all, Grace felt she had gotten a very deep and insightful look into Karnage’s family life, but should she really have done that?

 

The dog was unable to decide as she stalked out of the public library and headed home. She still had a paper from Max to work on anyway.

 

Upon reaching home, Grace sat in front of her sofa and settled down to watch that afternoon’s reruns of Blood and water, however she was interrupted during a commercial break by yet another phone call.

 

“It had better not be the prison this time….”

Grace sighed and picked up the phone.

 

“Hello!”

 

“Gracie?”

 

It was Max. Thank goodness for small miracles! Grace heaved a tiny sigh of relief.

 

“Hi Max! Any reason you’re calling?”

 

Grace normally didn’t appreciate Max’s impromptu phone calls, but after getting the call about Karnage this afternoon any other news was good news.

 

“Yes; can you try and get me that story on Karnage by 8 tonight? I really need it in.”

 

“I’ll try. Can I work on it from home?”

 

“Yes! But turn it in to me when you’re done.”

 

“Can do.”

 

They said light-hearted goodbyes and hung up.

 

Grace spent the next twenty minutes getting out the Karnage story on her typewriter. She ended it on an ambiguous note; but felt it wasn’t her best, as her fluidity seemed to be someplace else tonight. Upon getting the story to Max, he declared it was her best in a while and that they could hope to get at least a moderate audience.

 

After coming home from the Envoy building again, Grace listened to the radio a little more before downing a few beers from the icebox and falling asleep in front of the radio, exhausted and still fully clothed.

 

Saturday was Grace’s day off; and she slept late, not waking until around eight-thirty. Eight thirty was considerably late for Grace to wake up; given that she was normally up at six to get to work, and sleeping in was something she enjoyed greatly when she was able.

 

Simply because she felt like it, Grace dressed, had a breakfast of half-decent raspberry pancakes, and then headed out to the county jail to visit Karnage- although mostly to see if he was out of the infirmary.

 

As soon as she got on the street Grace had a feeling it’d be a good day. There were no traces of the previous night’s rainstorm. The leaves were still on the trees, and the sky was still delicate turquoise and cloudless. Grace loved these kinds of days; and they made her feel like a giddy teenager again instead of a grown adult who was turning thirty-one on November 22nd.

 

Upon reaching the prison, the atmosphere seemed much calmer than it had the previous day, but a slight feeling of dread was growing within Grace- primarily because of what she’d found at the library. How could she approach Karnage about that? Grace’s conscience urged her to just tell him so he’d know what his father had done with the records.

 

On reaching Karnage’s cell, the wolf was once again wearing his familiar blue coat and gray pants, lying on his bunk- which now lacked a blanket. Physically he seemed a lot better than yesterday, but emotionally he looked anxious and downright melancholy.

 

Grace didn’t want to do this. Not now. She didn’t.

Just do it! Her conscience rallied her on. Just do it and you’ll feel better. What’s the worst that could happen?

 

“Karnage?” She glanced at him worriedly.

 

The wolf leapt out of bed and slowly backed against the far wall, all nerves.

 

“Karnage, it’s me! Miss Kane!”

 

Karnage shook unsteadily on his footpaws. His eyes were glazed and unfocused as well. “Se-Senorita Kane?”

 

“Yes. Captain?"

She turned to face him, and he looked at her. Karnage was unable to stop shaking all the while.

 

“Si. I am not knowing what to be doing now….” He wrung his paws nervously, muttering under his breath. “Keet, por favor… Keet…. is getting me out of jail." he explained.

Grace shakily leaned against the back wall. It was now or never.

 

“I…I was at the public library yesterday and I found some things.”

 

“Que?”

 

“I wasn’t aware you had sisters.”

 

“My family tree ees…Confusing. There are members I am not even knowing about.”

 

Grace stared at her footpaws.

 

“I’m assuming your father donated all that to the local library himself- Birth certificates, death certificates, newspapers, family photos…. I doubt anyone thought to look at it all but….I read about what happened to Helena.”

 

Karnage wept silently. “Helena, mi hermana… Si.”

 

Grace shook her head in numbed shock. “Did your father actually….was Helena…??”

 

Karnage looked bitter, his eyes alight with cold hate.

 

“Si. She was.”

 

“Sickening.”

 

Karnage remained crying, but attempted to wipe at his tears. Grace herself did the same with her own damp eyes.

 

“Did you know what she was going to do when she died?”

 

“No.”

 

Grace was almost unable to go on.

 

“When….When you attempted…Were you thinking about being with Helena and your mother again?”

 

Karnage nodded silently.

 

“I’m sorry if I’m just making this worse. I really am," Grace confessed, making her thoughts open now.

 

“No you’re not. Eet’s my fault. Mi culpa.”

 

“How was Helena’s death your fault?”

“Should have been there….To stop eet.”

 

“But you didn’t know what she was going to do.”

 

“Ojalá hubiera muerto en este momento.”

 

I wish I’d died right now. Grace knew a little Spanish, so she understood. “How would it have been different if you’d died?”

 

“I would not be hurting dis badly….Mi familia…”

 

“Is it any consolation that you have me and Kit?”

 

“Si, Senorita Kane.”

 

Shakily, Karnage rose and hugged her through the bars.

 

“Have you seen your father at all since Helena?”

 

“I am…Not knowing.”

 

“I’m sorry if I’m asking too much.”

 

“You haven’t. I’m just….Confuzzled.”

 

Grace took a deep breath and tried to stay focused.

 

“I’ve just been wanting to know though…. Did your father do all of this because of your mother’s death?”

 

“Si.”

 

“Did you hate him for doing that?” I would have.

 

Karnage winked conspiratorially. “Let us be saying….A little shoe cleaner goes de long way, yes-no?”

 

Grace lowered her voice to a whisper. “Can I come see you after….You know?”

 

“Si. You’ll have to come secretly though. Geet Keet to bring you if it is being possible. Gracias, Senorita Kane.”

 

Grace just winked slyly at him and headed out.

 

Getting Karnage out of jail was easier done than said. Kit (who had left a lengthy note explaining his absence at Higher for Hire and could only hope Baloo and Rebecca would understand), a better-than-average lockpicker had been sent to spring the wolf from his cell while Karnage’s partners-in-crime lay in wait inside the ‘bird’ (the bird being the mighty aircraft carrier, the Iron Vulture)

 

Kit had been timed with exactly half an hour to get Karnage out of the big house, get to the Vulture and run like there was no tomorrow. And that was exactly what they were planning on doing now.

 

Karnage and his pack of wolves (well, with the exception of Jock, a Scotty dog, Dumptruck, a Great Dane, and Hal a mutt cat), who called themselves the Air Pirates, were mostly aboard and waiting eagerly awaiting the return of their leader and his former student.

 

You’re only doing this once.

 

Kit reminded himself as he paced restlessly by the large metal ramp that led up into the Vulture. How had Karnage gotten the Vulture? He’d stolen it of course, but few actually knew that (Kit was one of those who did) Karnage’s cover story was that he’d made it himself, just to make himself look a tad more decent and honorable than was actually true.

 

Kit couldn’t help but admire the craft as a cool Indian summer breeze ruffled his fur. It was almost time to get the hell out. Kit tensed as Karnage’s second-in-command, a scrawny red wolf hypocritically known as Mad Dog, hurried out from the shadows beyond the ramp.

 

“Cap’n?" he squealed, nervously squeezing his revolver like a child’s toy. “I thought he left us!” He jabbed a claw at Kit.

 

“Leave him alone. Enough keeling. Dose are my orders.”

 

To prove his point, Karnage limped up from the makeshift stretcher he’d been lying on (still weak from his suicide attempt) and stood beside Kit. Kit gave the wolf a visible look of surprise; incredulous that his former mentor would still be invested enough to come to his rescue.

 

All of this was pushed aside however, as Karnage fell to his knees, muttering every cuss word under the sun (and several others under Venus) He glanced at several other loyal pirates who had turned out to witness the commotion, looking uncertainly at their weapons.

 

“Save eet for de Dogfather. Kit saved my life by calling you.”

 

Kit watched the scene with wide eyes but did not say a word.

 

Mad Dog gasped. “D-Dogfather?”

 

Kit nodded gravely.

 

“Yes, the Dogfather!”

 

Again, the young bear felt the beginnings of the guilty doubt and swallowed hard.

 

The gathered Pirates were all shaking as they put away or dropped their guns.

 

“Keet saved my life," Karnage repeated, eyeing them coolly.

 

Kit wondered if the wolf was making this all up for show as he had often done.

 

“How?”

 

“De Dogfather had….how you say….Asesinos a sueldo een de prison. Dey threatened to keel me unless I did it myself….I attempted. I tried to hang myself. Which is why I am….Dis way.”

 

He indicated his prone position with a single extended claw.

 

“De jewel for de lightning gun….Are any of you remembering that? I stole eet from…. Don Luciano diVenazetti. He swore revenge, threatened mi familia unless….Suicidio.”

 

He hung his head like a beast stripped of his pride. And for Don Felipe Karnage this was saying something. This was saying quite a lot.

 

“I attempted afterward. I knew I had to go eento hiding….I got een touch with Keet and asked heem to bring you here.”

 

Kit tried to smile weakly. “And the rest is history!” He leaned close to Karnage and allowed himself a cuss: “We’ll outwit the bastard as we’ve outwitted others.”

 

“Si, Keet! I can’t thank you enough.”

 

Kit smiled shyly with the awkwardness that creatures in adolescence are prone to have.

 

“I’m glad I could help.”

 

Karnage managed a slight beam himself.

 

“You’ll always have a place een my heart, Keet. I want you to know eet. Take care of Molly, Baloo and Rebecca, you have a great familia. Tell dem how proud I am for raising you right- unlike my own.”

 

“I will. I promise.”

 

“Muchas gracias, Keet. I’ll never forget you.”

 

The pain in Karnage’s throat had long become excruciating and he could bear it no longer. Believing himself to be dying, the wolf shut his eyes and disappeared into the black.

 

Grace was napping in front of the radio in her pajamas and a bathrobe. It was not quite lunchtime, but after breakfast, and she was too lazy to make herself brunch.

 

Images of sexy male dogs projected themselves in her mind, and Grace found herself drooling.

 

“Must have….Male admirer…..One who doesn’t find me annoying…mhmahmagmmm……”

 

Drool collecting on her muzzle, Grace’s left paw dunked spasmodically into her bowl of cherries. The radio blared static. Bits and pieces of it carried through to Grace.

 

“…..Prisoner is believed to have escaped at….”

Escaped prisoner?!!??!

 

Grace jolted into an upright position, cramming cherries into her mouth. Instantly on red alert.

 

“…between eight and nine-thirty…..Chased past Airfield…..Headed….north….”

 

Grace’s heart began to pound in her chest as the phone began to rang. She got up and answered.

 

“Hello?”

 

The voice on the other end was unrecognizable, and surrounded by static.

 

“……Was told to inform a Miss Kane……the wolf has flown, Miss Kane. The Wolf has flown.”

 

And with that, the mysterious caller hung up.

 

All was not well in the Dragon’s Lair. The location of the present meeting had switched to Luciano’s bedroom; which was a luxurious chamber indeed: Painted a somber dark green, it contained ancient, outdated gas lamps and wall sconces (the Dragon’s Lair had been built just before the turn of the century), a maple-wood canopy bed with a motheaten mattress, and floral sheets; as well as a great fireplace, a wooden table and several chairs, as well as a large bookcase full of thick, embossed volumes on graphic female anatomy and bizarre, violent sexual fantasies.

 

Luciano was sitting impatiently on the side of the bed; too slovenly to stand. He was dressed in expensive blue silk pajamas, often late to rise and dress on weekends. The Dogfather was sullen and impatient in mood. He had summoned some of his higher-ranked dogs to his chamber some twenty minutes ago, and not even Vincent had shown up yet.

 

If this persisted, the Dogfather had just gotten the idea of busting their doors down and dragging them in himself.

 

Luciano roused, however, as there was a faint knocking on the door, twice.

 

“Boss?”

 

Ahh. Vincent.

 

“Come in, Vinnie!”

 

Vincent, Collieone dressed fetchingly in a black suit with a rose corsage, settled himself by the Dogfather’s fire.

 

“All dressed up and noplace to go, eh?”

 

Luciano gave him a vile grin.

 

“I just thought I’d come and have a smoke before some of your other dingbats show up.”

 

“So they’re coming?”

 

“Yes!”

 

“Good.”

 

Luciano rose and took his cigar box down from the fireplace mantle, taking two cigars; one for Vincent and one for himself. As they smoked, Vincent took the opportunity to win some favor with his boss:

 

“Did you hear the news about Karnage?”

 

The collie smiled expectantly at the mob boss; awaiting his superiors’ reply.

 

“No. What?”

 

Luciano seemed instantly interested, and Vincent smiled cunningly.

 

“Your little scheme worked. Karnage strung himself up the other night.”

 

“He did?!”

 

Luciano’s face was alight with sadistic glee.

 

“Y-yeah boss.”

 

The very sight of that disgusting look gave Vincent cold shudders, but he didn’t want to look like a coward, so he shut it.

 

“But the problem is….We don’t know if he’s alive or if he’s dead. It’s been all over the news so we don’t know yet.”

 

Luciano’s smile now was wide and too sweet, a much eerier version of one you might find painted on a child’s doll.

 

“Oh it’s quite all right Vincent.”

 

The Dogfather’s voice was as smooth as satin now.

 

“I can always wait. There are so many games that we can all play with Karnage, don’t you know? And won’t it be fun if we catch him? There’s always bamboo under the claws…. The rack….Or even my favorite: Cock and ball torture!”

 

Vincent gulped. He was well aware that Luciano was not afraid to slice, cut, slap, or even burn the genitals of his male prisoners; a torture method not reserved for prisoners alone- Upon joining Luciano’s mob you were always told what would happen if you were disobedient. So far Vincent had been a model student of Luciano’s charm school but would it always be that way?

As though reading his thoughts, Luciano nodded slowly.

 

“Better make it perfect Vincent. Better make it perfect.”

 

“Er….I’ve always BEEN perfect; haven’t I?”

 

“Yes! Yes you have. Just keep BEING perfect. That’s all I ask.”

 

The Dogfather’s smile now was artificial and glaring. His instructions to Vincent were now strict commands and not just pleasant requests, and his happy manner made it too obvious.

 

Dropping on one knee, Vincent kissed Luciano’s finger, upon which rested a white-gold pawring with a ruby embedded in its center.

“I live for you and only you, Dogfather.”

 

He whispered with the impassioned patriotism of a true secondo-capo.

 

“Good boy Vincent.”

 

The Dogfather and his secondo were interrupted by a harsh banging; and the emerging din of cries and yelps from the outside hall became jarringly apparent.

 

“Well I’ll be dipped in gore…They’re here.”

 

Luciano walked to the door, but not before intoning to Vincent:

 

“Next time give me more news on Karnage. Next time, perfection.”

 

Vincent nodded meekly as the door slammed open.

 

Another high-ranking dog like himself ran to Luciano, grabbing his lapel.

 

“Boss! I got news on Karnage.”

 

“Go on; tell me now.”

 

“…….The wolfy bastard’s alive!”

 

 

As mid-morning continued, the Iron Vulture was still airborne. Jock (Real name: Jacques), a wiry, thick-accented Scotty dog had been democratically elected to fly during Karnage’s hopefully temporary incapacitation.

 

Kit had dragged a chair next to Jock’s in the cockpit, and had mostly been reading old comic books as the day dragged by, fulfilling whatever tasks and machine jobs Jock needed him to do when and where possible.

 

Without Karnage’s take-command attitude, and dramatic flamboyance they might well have been flying through a boring and excruciatingly painful sky of thick, choking fog. Without their leader to guide them, the Pirates were significantly less well-ordered in addition. Jock however, was among one of the eldest of the crew and was able to keep things in line and in command.

 

“Jock, we got any sandwiches today?”

 

Kit asked, trying to keep up idle chat.

 

Jock squinted a moment, guiding the Vulture onward before answering Kit’s query.

 

“Just peanut butter.”

 

Kit stifled a groan. Peanut butter was his least favorite type of sandwich; but if it was all they had it’d have to do.

 

“How’s the Captain?”

 

Jock sighed.

 

“I wish I knew. He was still out cold last I saw him, laddie.”

 

The dog shook his head gravely.

 

“His throat didn’t look too good.”

 

Kit sighed and leaned back in his uncomfortable three-legged chair that had been bolted down to the floor.

 

Seeing the young bear’s fear and depression, Jocks added:

 

“But if we know our Captain he’ll soon be up an’ about soon enough.”

 

Jock paused to massage one paw, wincing. Arthritis had begun to catch up with him for the past six years, and medication had long stopped helping but because hope was an incessant thing he took the damned pills anyway.

 

Pausing, the dog said to his sometimes-companion:

 

“Can you see if we ‘ave any lemonade in the icebox?”

 

Kit was glad to be out of the cockpit and all its attendant memories; if only for several minutes.

 

“Aye. I’ll be right back.”

 

Kit leapt from his chair and hurried out.

 

The hallway adjoining the cockpit was narrow, metal-walled and cramped. Only two or three creatures of medium size and length could walk alongside each other and that was uncomfortable as it was. Because it was close in proximity to the pantry, Kit knew he had to stop by Karnage’s cabin.

 

Stealing a glance through the ajar door, he saw the wolf lying sprawled on his over-extravagant canopy bed, sides heaving; deeply unconscious. No one was certain as to what had caused Karnage’s sudden relapse (although perhaps overexertion had played a role)

 

Ever since the getaway, various upper-ranked crewbeasts had taken turns sitting vigil; and so far it was not yet Kit’s turn.

 

In search of the lemonade, Kit turned to the right in direction of the subterranean pantry. Along the way he almost bumped into Dumptruck; the dull-witted and lone dog member of the Air Pirates.

 

“‘Ello Kit.”

 

He slobbered, grinning childishly.

 

“You’re back now? Huh? Huh?”

 

“Yeah, I’m back.”

 

Kit smiled weakly.

 

“Jock sent me to get some lemonade.”

 

He explained and attempted to brush past.

 

Dumptruck would not yield so easily.

 

“Lemonade?! Do they have cake down there too???”

 

Kit was tempted to say that usually Karnage ate all the cake, but at the moment it wasn’t as though the wolf would care.

 

“We can see.”

 

Kit allowed the immature and good-natured canine to follow along as he trotted down the creaky stairs into the dimly-lit pantry; which was filled with iceboxes of every type and variant, Dumptruck ran right up to one of them and began searching eagerly in search of cake.

 

Kit himself began pawing through; hoping to find at least a few glasses of the homemade beverage.

 

Kit turned instinctively as a CRASH! Came from the wine rack. Karnage never drank, but had supplied a lengthy collection of liquors for those who did, and they all worshipped him for it. If anyone had screwed with the expensive wines now, then they’d have to face Karnage’s wrath later.

 

“T-Th-there’s somebody by the-the r-r-r-ack…..”

 

Dumptruck spluttered, looking like a five-year-old who’d encountered the boogeyman.

 

Taking on the figurative role of the protective older sibling, Kit took a few steps forward towards the rack. Several glasses had fallen and shattered now, and he trod carefully around the scattered glass.

 

“Hello……Is anyone there?”

 

Not intending to get a response, Kit’s eyes widened as he peered into the shadows beyond the rack. Two greenish, narrow eyes peered back at him from the velvet blackness.

 

A slim, nervous pantheress emerged from the gloom. Herein are the ensuing events:

 

Said panther, prison guard Melina Davidson had just a moment to blink, catching the duo of frenzied faces that fenced her in before being cast face first to the deck.

 

Kit grimaced.

 

"We got a stowaway."

 

He ran off to alert the other Pirates. With Karnage out for the count, they'd all have to decide what do with her. With leniency.


	7. Chapter Seven

Five minutes later, about half of the Pirates had gathered on the Vulture's top deck.  
“Mind the head!” Melina shouted crossly, attempting to rise as she was led up. A paw stepped between her shoulder blades forcing her roughly back down. Shrieks and hoots filled the air. Suddenly, the cries were cut off. As frightening as the shrill chorus had been, the new silence was even more ominous. Footsteps approached the prone panther. They circled her, ending at her head.

 

After she was thoroughly searched, Kit glanced at the silver insignia pinned to her chest; one that marked a loyalist of the the domineering multi-corporation, Khan Industries and their eponymous CEO.

 

"So we've got a Khan supporter, huh?" Kit sighed.

"Take me to Captain Karnage. I have business with him and him alone."

MadDog swallowed hard, shaking his head nervously.

"He's hurt right now; That's why I've come. I treated Karnage in the prison infirmary, my name is Melina Davidson."

 

Hal, the only cat in a shipload of canines, felt he could sympathize with Melina; Khannie or not. Clearing his throat, the cat turned to the other Pirates and spoke calmly and with enunciation:

 

"Boys, I'll take care of this..."

 

To Melina:

 

"Lady, can we talk in private? I wanna hear your story. All of it."

 

Melina glanced at Hal. He was covered in scabs, had a crooked tail, and was embarrassingly overweight; but he had a crooked but nonetheless friendly smile, and he touched something in her conscience.

 

Leading Melina off by the arm, the two cats departed past the belowdeck stairs leaving the assembled conference to await their return.

 

Twenty-two-year-old Harold Marvin ‘Hal’ Barnhart had no single fixed position or task aboard the Iron Vulture, but the closest title that could describe him would be ‘Karnage’s manservant’ or butler, if you will. He often had to fetch and carry small things for Karnage, or other various daily chores:

 

“Hal, take my sword from de rack and clean it! I want to see my glorious reflection!”

 

Or

 

“Hal; tell Dumptruck and Gibber to pace up de pick!”

 

etc, etc. Sometimes Hal’s role was a source of pride for him, and other times it was one of shame. Hal had also never learned to read in school (being dyslexic) and dropped out after seventh grade; eventually turning to a life of crime as a means of running from a world that didn’t accept him. Although Hal was far from a criminal; (as he constantly told himself) just a good cat under bad circumstances, and with a bad crowd as well.

He thought about this silently as he led Melina down the stairs and to the left, into the darkening boiler room.

 

She won’t make you read nothin’. She won’t make you read nothin’, She won’t make you read nothin’.

Hal’s heart was beating like a tattooed drumbeat in his chest as he turned the doorknob. The cat couldn’t even read one word, and had drowned in everlasting shame the one time Karnage had asked him to read a line of poetry.

 

“What does dat say, Hal?”

 

The wolf had said at the time, arms crossed in his trademark impatience.

 

Hal had gulped and attempted to stutter off the words on the page; for him they had appeared only as blurring, twisted snakes.

 

“The….Flowers…..are green in…..the…..meadow?”

 

Karnage had glared and said slowly

 

“Dat is not what it says there.”

 

Hal took a deep breath and threw down the anthology book, confessing:

 

“Cap’n, I can’t read!”

 

And it had all gone downhill from there. Nowadays Hal’s position consisted mainly more of various odd jobs than of helping Karnage with his daily needs, and he silently wrung his paws and hoped that this Melina would not ask him to read anything.

 

“Well, ‘ere it is.”

 

The boiler room was a tiny room with concrete ceilings and matching floors. It contained only a furnace and other various apparatuses that kept the Vulture airborne. Hal found a rusty metal chair by the roaring furnace and sat. A moment later he got up and began to pace the boiler room.

 

“Lady, tell me everything. These ain’t my orders; they’re everyone else’s…But I answer to the Cap’n, so spit it out. Are you a spy? I can play good cop or bad cop.”

"I'm no spy. I used to be on Khan's side." Melina spat on the concrete floor as she said the name, ripping off her insignia as well. "He can bend his stripey ass over and kiss mine!"

But Hal was still on the ice, even after Melina had denounced Khan.

“And what made you change your mind so fast, huh?”

 

He said, folding his arms the way Karnage often did.

 

“Seeing the shit he did….I never wanted to be a damned prison guard. I wanted to be a nurse!”

 

“Then why were you a guard t’start with?”

 

“For the money. I was poor.”

 

Melina sobbed openly before continuing. “I want…..to make a blood oath….on your captain’s cutlass…before all you and him. I want to join the crew.”

 

NOW Hal was taken aback; especially by the pantheress’s fierce enthusiasm for the subject. The cat took a shaking breath, his paws twitching subtly.

 

“H-hold your horses…..Lady; why do you want to join so bad anyway?”

 

Melina lowered her voice. “I was the one who treated your captain in the prison infirmary. But before that I was…A smuggler…before I joined Khan. A diamond smuggler- blood diamonds out west. Khan runs most of Cape Suzette, you know? He gave me this the day I got a job at the prison.”

Melina opened her blouse to reveal a whitish, jagged scar running down her chest.

 

Hal’s heart began to pound. Never before had he, the small-town boy who hadn’t completed middle school seen a wound such as that.

 

“But no…nobody survives wounds to the chest!”

 

“He told me himself….He was cutting away from the heart.” The pantheress cried again but said: “I’ve got a bullet in my gun with Khan’s name on it!” Her eyes blazed with rage.

 

Hal just turned away nervously.

“Er…Should I take you to the Captain now?”

 

Seeing his obvious fear, Melina sighed.

 

“Hal I’m sorry I exploded. I didn’t mean to. Please?”

 

The cat got cold chills down his spine. He’d never told her his name.

“C-Can you tell the others I’m as against the stripey bastard- and Luciano- as they are? I also have….premonitions. That’s how I knew your name. Please don’t think I’m….insane.”

 

“Premonitions?”

 

“Able to sense things before they happen.”

 

“Then what’s my real name?”

 

Melina didn’t miss a beat. “Harold Marvin Barnhart.”

Damn.

 

“Give me an example of one of those….premonitions.”

 

“Kit is going to walk in the door in a second.”

 

When Kit DID come in thirty seconds later, both cats were aware they had quite a bit of explaining and expositing to do.

 

 

Grace was beaten down and exhausted. She had searched all over town and the outskirts for evidence of Karnage’s passing by, but found nothing. Not even a scrap. Might as well call it quits.

 

Grace sighed, muttered under her breath and sat on the couch, thinking about lunch.

 

Grace balked however, as the phone began to ring.

 

“Hi?”

 

Her heart was pounding wildly. The static on the other end was exactly the same as it had been earlier, and so was the corresponding voice:

 

“I have instructions for Miss Kane," the voice rasped. “The bird has gone back to its nest. I repeat- the bird has gone back to its nest, over. Go northwest, far north. Beyond the harbor. Go swiftly. The line may be tapped. Swiftly now, Miss Kane!”

 

And with that, the mystery caller hung up.

 

“Northwest…..harbor….”

Scribbling the instructions in her notepad, Grace hurriedly adjusted her blouse and ran out the door. Her instinct told her that the mysterious phone caller was giving her direct instructions to Karnage.

And her journalist’s intuition screamed at her to go after him. But would she turn him in…..? Maybe not.

 

Fourteen minutes after the conversation in the boiler room, Hal and Melina were walking down the hallway. Kit was not there; he had agreed to meet them in Karnage’s cabin. Introductions had long been made, and the two cats were at least comfortable with each other now. Sort of.

 

“So…you’re not crazy?”

 

“No.”

 

Hal paused.

 

“Then why do you have those….premonitions?”

 

“I wish I knew….”

 

Melina slumped against the wall and rubbed at her damp eyes.

 

“I’ve tried more than once but…..your captain needs help.”

 

Any mention of Karnage’s current state made Hal nervous.

 

“H-How is he?”

 

Melina resumed walking.

 

“He’s doing better physically but emotionally he’s as scared as I am.”

 

Hal sighed and stroked his temple.

 

“I’m not going to let those sons of bitches get to him.” Melina muttered sourly.

 

“But nobody really knows for sure he’s alive….at least; not yet.”

 

“Aye. That’s why I want to keep it that way.”

 

“According to the p’lice he dropped off the radar completely.”

 

The panther breathed a long sigh of relief.

 

“Er….Melina?”

 

“Yes, Hal?”

She swallowed hard but smiled.

 

“Did you ever get locked up because of what you saw?”

 

“Once.”

 

Curiosity killed the cat but Cal pressed on anyway.

 

“Why?”

 

“They thought I was insane. Being locked up in an asylum just about drove me insane. I killed someone to get out of there and scaled a barbed chain-link fence to escape.”

 

“But you’re not crazy?”

 

“No!”

 

“I’m not crazy either but I can’t read.” Hal looked noticeably ashamed.

 

“Hal, I can teach you to read. I’d be glad to.”

 

“R-Really?”

 

“Yes!”

 

The cat looked mildly embarrassed but smiled and resumed walking.

 

“The Captain’s not gonna die right?”

 

“Not if I have anything to say about it!”

 

“You’re sure you can do this?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Hal paused. “Look, I….I know some of this stuff. My father was a doctor.”

 

“Could you help me out?”

 

“With? It kinda depends.”

 

“Well, what kind of stuff DO you know? I’d be glad to have any help I can get.”

 

“All my father ever taught me was how to clean off the surgical equipment.”

 

Hal winced, remembering. Chauncey Barnhart had worked his son like a slave, and Hal could remember many a sunny Saturday afternoon when he had been wiping down scalpels with sterilized rags when he should have been playing outside.

“I want to see those scalpels squeaky-clean, Harold!” ad been his constant fefrain, and maybe it was from this business that Hal had been so good at cleaning Karnage’s swords.

 

“I can teach you.”

 

Melina hugged him gently, and smiled.

 

“Teach me what?”

 

“About medical equipment and how it works. I’ll teach you in intervals.” Melina grinned.

 

“Thanks….You’re really nice, you know.”

 

“So are you.”

 

Hal sucked in his teeth. No one had ever called him nice, least of all Karnage.

 

By now they’d reached the cabin door. Hal shifted on one footpaw a little.

 

“If you wanna do this blood oath thing, I’m waitin’ outside.”

 

Hal was extremely squeamish. It was his private secret.

 

Melina nodded and went inside to meet Kit. (in the end; everyone else had been too busy to attend the blood oath, especially the likes of Jock)

 

Karnage’s cabin was certainly a sight: With reinforced steel walls, it contained a long burgundy-colored carpet, a radio, an arrogant wooden wardrobe, and a wooden plaque upon which the wolf’s sword was mounted on. Up against the wall was Karnage’s bed, with its green canopy. Kit was slumped in a plush armchair beside it, chewing his claws nervously as was habit.

 

He looked up, however, as Melina entered.

 

She took a deep breath.

 

“You want me to prove that I won’t betray you? I’ll prove it. But how? I’ll make a blood oath.”

 

“With?”

 

Melina glanced towards the rack.

 

“Can you get me your captain’s sword?”

 

Kit’s gaze followed hers.

 

“Does it HAVE to be the captain’s sword?”

 

His eyes fell on Karnage, who had since fell into a state more sleep than unconsciousness.

 

“No.”

 

Kit would honor her wishes, whatever they were so he asked:

 

“But is that what you want to use?”

 

“Yes. I was thinking since he’s the one in command he’d want my sign of trust. Kit can you wake him up please, if you can, when I make the oath?”

 

As Kit walked off to the left, Melina went to the door.

 

“Hal, can you come in here for just a minute? Please?”

 

There was a squeaking of the metal door.

 

“All right but only for a second…”

 

The cat walked in muttering under his breath.

 

Melina turned to him.

 

“Hal you can give the sword to him… wait. Hold his paw, if he tries to do something to himself just take the sword.”

 

He nodded his agreement.

 

Kit was now sitting in his chair next to Karnage’s bed, stroking the wolf’s limp wrist.

 

“Captain? Captain it’s me, Kit.”

 

Hal had come over now and had the cutlass ready, draped across his lap.

 

Karnage blinked. There was a look, partially of contempt and partially of kindness as he looked at Hal.

 

“Keet? Muchas gracias. Que?”

 

“She…she wants to make a blood oath, sir.”

 

He indicated Melina.

 

“Y-yeah.”

 

Hal stroked the swordtip nervously.

 

“Melina? She’s one of Khan’s—“

 

Karnage was on alert now. He had seen a lengthy, typewritten list of Shere Khan’s employees and a Melina Davidson had been among them.

 

“Former, Captain.” Melina assured him.

 

“Si.”

 

“Uh….here.”

 

Hal passed Karnage the sword and nervously skittered off into a corner.

 

“Come here, por favor.”

 

Melina got closer to the bed and dropped on one knee.

 

“What exactly are you eentending to swear?”

 

Kit watched nervously.

 

“She wants to swear her loyalty. To you.”

 

“Senorita Davidson.”

 

The wolf smiled a bit.

 

“I am happy to be accepting you as a member of my crew.”

 

He held out the blade.

 

Melina reached out a shaking black paw and ran it against the blade. A trickle of blood squirted out, and she winced. But the look on her face was one of determination.

 

“Captain, I swear my undying loyalty to you and your Air Pirates. Anybeast who tries to kill or harm you will DIE before they get the chance.”

 

Her eyes blazed with raw passion. Staring down at the floor, she muttered:

 

“Die at my gun, my blade, die at my paws.”

 

Kit bowed his head.

 

“Amen to that.”

 

“Melina, I am glad you’re one of us now.”

 

Opening a drawer in the bedside table, (brushing past a few creased black and white pictures of Rosa and Helena) Karnage found a dusty pin that was the badge of his officers; a wolf skull and crossbones against a circular black background.

He hugged her gently.

 

“You’re de best medic I ever met.”

 

And with that, the blood oath concluded. It appeared that the Air Pirates had a new member, and Hal a new coworker. But did this mean that the other dangers weren't out there? As Grace would say......NAH!


	8. Chapter Eight

Grace had determined that she was going to need a plane or a boat to get to Karnage’s compound (wherever it was) and unfortunately she had neither. And to make things even worse; there were no ferry boats on duty today, and so far she had yet to find a cargo pilot who had heard of land being located anywhere beyond the harbor.

Grace sat on Cape Suzette’s boardwalk and gazed at the day around her. Morning was fast becoming afternoon, and the sky was blue and cloudless. A salty breeze ruffled her fur from where she sat, and all around her there were teenagers milling about aimlessly, or happy families with children.

 

Family. A word that made Grace cringe the moment she heard it. With her face to the sky, Grace thought about her own parents, Sarah and Daniel. Daniel Kane had made a vast fortune on the stock market, and had used it to buy himself an opulent country manor and all the luxuries his little daughter could possibly enjoy. Then, when her parents had died so suddenly, Grace’s uncle Jason had claimed her

 

Daniel’s younger brother, Jason was embittered by Daniel’s death; especially since he had died wealthy, when both of them had started out as little more than dirt-poor farm boys. Nonetheless, Jason and September had taken great pains to give Grace the best life that they could.

 

And when she turned eighteen and was legally in possession of her parents’ fortune, Grace had by then decided being a millionaire was not for her- she donated most of the money to her aunt and uncle’s farm, and the rest towards her college education.

 

The wind sighed around Grace as she bathed in her anguish. She could never do ANYTHING right these days and while bitching and moaning wouldn’t help either, that didn’t mean she wasn’t entitled to do it when she felt like it.

 

“Excuse me.”

 

A well-dressed lion was trying to walk past Grace.

 

“Sorry, sir!”

 

She hurriedly rose so he could pass, and sat down on the side of the boardwalk. And then….something slowly dawned on her.

 

There was one beast she’d forgotten to consult about all of this; one who might quite possibly be able to help her. If anyone WOULD know the location of Karnage’s secret compound……YES! It’d be Baloo!

 

Being close by (luckily), Grace hurried down the street and banged on the door.

 

She had knocked several times when Baloo (who looked like he needed some coffee badly) opened the door.

 

“Miss Kane, again?”

 

There was blatant surprise on his face.

“Yes! Can I come in? I need to discuss something very urgent with you and Miss Cunningham.”

 

Baloo waved Grace inside.

 

“Becky’s not here yet but come on in.”

 

Grace hurriedly thanked Baloo and ran inside.

 

“Say, Miss Kane have you seen Kit at all today?”

 

Grace shook her head.

 

“No I haven’t. Why?”

 

Baloo sighed heavily as he went up to his office door and unlocked it.

 

“I haven’t seen him all morning. Got a note from him but when I reached over to read it; some water spilled.”

 

Fumbling with his pockets for a moment, Baloo produced a torn scrap of paper and held it so Grace could see. Unfortunately she could make out nothing other than a few stained, illegible words.

 

Squinting so hard it almost made her eyes hurt, Grace read aloud:

 

“I’ve…..gone….to help….an…old……….friend. –K. An old friend.”

 

Grace clutched her chest.

 

“You think it’s….?”

 

Baloo stared, slack-jawed.

 

Grace nodded silently.

 

“Damned if I do.”

 

There was a banging outside. Baloo turned to Grace, saying:

 

“That’ll be Beckers. I’ll be right back.”

 

From down the hall, Grace faintly heard Rebecca, Baloo and Molly greet each other, and then a loud shuffling of paws.

 

When the trio got back to the office, Molly immediately sat down on the floor and started playing with her race cars, making loud ‘vrooom, vroom’ noises until her mother silenced her.

 

“Molly….”

 

She said firmly.

 

“But mommyyyyyyyy….”

Molly whined, as children often do, but Rebecca held a stern claw to her lips and turned around.

 

“Miss Kane! It’s great to see you! But I…I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

 

Rebecca addressed Grace crisply.

 

The dog nodded.

 

“About?”

 

“This.”

 

Rebecca picked up yesterday’s paper from the desk that Baloo had discarded, and flashed it to Grace. It was not the Envoy, and prominently displayed a graphic picture of a noosed Karnage below the headline.

 

Shaking her head, the bear whispered:

 

“I honestly didn’t think he would……”

 

Turning to her daughter, Rebecca spoke up:

 

“Molly can you PLEASE run out and play for a few minutes?”

 

Molly was not a young girl to be trifled with. She rose and stamped her footpaw angrily.

 

“Why, mommy? ‘Adult matters’ again? You said that yesterday!”

 

“Molly, please. Baloo, Miss Kane and I all want to discuss something private.”

 

“I don’t care!”

 

“Molly….”

 

Rebecca’s voice had gained an edge; an I’m-warning-you one Grace had vaguely remembered her aunt September as having given her a lot growing up.

 

“Mommy, if it’s important I want to stay. Please?”

 

Molly’s eyes really were very cute, especially when she gave Rebecca sweet, innocent stare that could melt the heart of even the most stubborn creature.

 

Sighing, eventually Rebecca DID relent.

 

“All right, Molly. You can stay but only if you sit quietly like a big girl and don’t interrupt.”

 

Molly put her toys away and settled down in a chair, staring at her footpaws solemnly.

 

Rebecca was losing it now. Her eyes were dampened with tears, and sobbing in torment, she grabbed Grace’s shoulders:

 

“Miss Kane…I….I saw the story! WHY did he do that?! Why???”

 

Molly looked distressed and wiped at her eyes. Grace cringed and scanned the newspaper. Trying her best to sound comforting, she said to the sobbing Rebecca:

 

“Miss Cunningham….this newspaper is outdated. Karnage is still alive and….escaped from jail this morning!”

 

“But still….”

 

Baloo sighed raggedly, reliving last night’s experience.

 

“Karnie why did you do that??!!!!! I wish I could kick your scraggly tail for what you did!”

 

“Mr. Van Bruinwald….Mrs. Cunningham….please calm down. I haven’t had a good past couple days either and I’m as upset as you are; but as far as I know Karnage isn’t dead yet. Please?”

 

All of this was too much for Molly.

 

“I must not be a big girl.”

 

She muttered under her breath, and fled the room with damp eyes.

 

Silence reigned just as it had the night before. The air was thick with pent-up emotion.

 

“I…I have reason to believe that Kit is with Karnage. And that he helped him escape.”

 

Grace sighed, addressing both Rebecca AND Baloo.

 

“This morning I got a message on the telephone saying ‘the wolf has flown, the wolf has flown’ and then ‘the bird has gone back to its nest’ I think that Karnage went back to his little hideout…..wherever the hell that is. And I came here thinking that maybe you guys could help me out; having had relations.”

 

“Kit made a map of the island! I’ll see if I can find it…."

Rebecca ran to the other side of the room, to the filing cabinet, pawed through a stack of papers and then produced a grease-stained map and a brass compass from one of the drawers.

 

“Northwest….northwest….northwest….”

 

As Grace eagerly studied the map, Baloo spoke up:

 

“If you want; I can take you in the Sea Duck. I’ve got my own score to settle with Karnie.”

 

Grace’s face lit up. She clasped her paws nervously.

 

“Could you please?”

 

“Yes!”

 

Rebecca spoke now:

 

“I’ll hold down the fort while you’re gone, Baloo.”

Sighing sadly, she said:

 

“I’d better go talk to Molly….”

 

And hurried out.

 

“Thank you so much, Mr. Van Bruinwald.”

 

Grace said earnestly, to Baloo.

 

The black bear just smiled and tipped his hat.

 

“My pleasure, Miss Kane.”

 

And with that, they were off!

 

A quiet peace had settled slowly over the Iron Vulture. She’d now landed at Karnage’s secret compound; a rocky atoll known as Pirate Island, and had been used by his forefathers as a secret hideout since 1775; when sea piracy was in its heyday.

 

Now that Melina’s afternoon was starting to become occupied by other things, Kit offered to teach Hal how to read, and the proud yet modest cat agreed; and the two were probably still doing that even now- they’d started with Maxson’s Dictionary of English; which was an awfully dull book to learn to read from.

 

Melina remained behind in Karnage’s cabin; where they engaged in what would be considered casual talk if Karnage BELIEVED in casual talk.

 

The wolf remained in bed while Melina paced the room, sitting in front of the fireplace.

 

“So how deed you turn against de bastard?”

 

Karnage said mysteriously, leaning against the pillows.

 

Melina gave this some thought.

 

“Who, Khan or Venazetti?”

 

She was too tired for word games.

 

A look of slight fear(?) came on Karnage’s face, however. He whispered in a low voice:

 

“Please forgeeve me. I meant Venazetti. I attempted suicide to get away from him.”

 

A ghost of fear was jarringly visible on his face.

 

“I….I just ran out on Khan. Like a coward.”

 

“No eres un cobadre. You’re not a coward.”

 

Melina felt flattered. Rising; she sat down beside the bed.

 

“R-Really?”

 

Karnage clasped Melina’s paw.

 

“Si! You’re brave!”

 

Flattery was a common trait among Karnage’s family members, but this time he was not flattering.

 

Melina squeezed his paw back, still blushing.

 

“I mean it. I’m honored to have you among us.”

 

“And it’s an honor to serve you.”

 

“I gained de best medic.”

 

Melina still felt flattered.

 

“What makes you think I’m THAT good?”

 

“You saved my life! I attempted…I tried to make sure I wouldn’t fail…Now…I’m still scared.”

 

“Why?”

 

“De Dogfather threatened mi familia unless….”

 

Family.

Melina’s eye had wandered up to the framed, embossed family crest hanging on the wall- two crimson snakes attacking each other, each bas-relief ivory fangs bristling, each yearning to make the killing blow.

Noli Me Calcare!

 

Don’t tread on me!

 

“But he hasn’t come after you now.”

 

“I’m thankful for that. But I’m still scared. Am I going…..the word??”

 

“The word. Loco. Wacky. Crazy.”

 

“I don’t think you’re crazy.”

 

Melina was being honest.

 

Karnage saw this and heaved a sigh of relief.

 

Then, the wolf paused. Another crucial question remained on his mind.

 

“How long am I having to be a….bed rider?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“How long am I having to stay here?”

 

Karnage indicated the bed.

 

Melina didn’t need to give this much thought.

“If it’s not too painful you can try walking….Now.”

 

“I think I’m ready.”

 

“All right. Do you need help?”

 

“Si. Por favor?”

 

As he shakily got out of bed, Melina offered Karnage her arm.

“Gracias, Senorita Kane.”

 

Karnage said, but not before he clamped an embarrassed paw over his muzzle. He limped to the fireplace and sat down.

 

“Senorita….Kane?”

 

Melina looked confused.

 

Karnage cringed.

 

“Please forgive me, Melina! I was not meaning to…..”

He blushed.

 

“Who’s Senorita Kane?”

 

Karnage paused, in thought.

 

“I am wanting to do something to thank both of you for everything you’ve done for me… Grace Kane’s a reporter for the Envoy. She….”

 

He just blushed.

 

It was more than obvious that the wolf had a blatant, heavy, grade-school style crush on Grace.

Melina tried to change the subject away from Karnage’s developing affection.

 

“Have I really helped you that much?”

 

He nodded enthusiastically.

 

“Si!”

 

Melina sat down on the side of the bed.

 

“…..Do you remember being in the infirmary?”

 

“A leetle bit.”

 

“I was with you, you know.”

 

“Gracias.”

 

He wept happily.

 

“What do you remember, exactly?”

 

“I felt everything go black when I jumped…..I felt de pain….everything went blank. I felt myself moving through what appeared to be a dark tunnel…. Dere was light at the end. I saw her. Saw mi mama.”

 

“And…?”

 

“I remember hugging her. I wanted to stay. Time seemed to….stand still. How long did eet seem like I was?”

 

Melina stumbled.

 

“I…. I wouldn’t know.”

 

“Mi mama and Helena were weeth me.”

 

“Helena?”

 

“My sister….”

 

Karnage’s voice concealed years of pain like a bad paint job.

 

“What….what happened to her?”

 

“She took her own life.”

 

He wept openly now.

 

“After she died…. I…. I attempted. For de first time.”

 

“H-How?”

 

“Hanging. I wrote a note… Went to de backyard weeth a rope, rigged a noose…I remember I stepped off a barrel. Everything went black. De next thing I knew, I was regaining consciousness een de nearest hospital.”

 

Karnage covered his face with his paws.

 

Melina went to the fireplace and hugged him gently. Karnage sobbed quietly but returned the hug.

 

“Melina….I was probably estupido.”

 

The panther did her best to reassure him.

 

“You hadn’t known any better.”

 

“De day Helena died, I died too.”

 

Melina paced.

 

“I don’t want to ruin the mood but…. Is Miss Kane coming to see you soon?” “I’m a leetle confuzzled…. She said she would. But I don’t know when, we deedn’t decide on a time.”

 

“Did you let her know where you are?”

 

“I sent her a code; a code the Dogfather couldn’t break.”

 

“Are you nervous about seeing her?”

 

Karnage just nodded.

 

“I’m confuzzled right now.”

 

“Why?”

 

“How I feel about her, and my duty to de crew.”

 

He winced, muttering under his breath:

 

“Karnage, yo estupido! Eets probably just theenkful wishing on my part.”

 

“Should I leave now?”

 

Melina was near the doorway.

 

“No, por favor…. Eet’s my fault.

 

“Why?”

 

“I have de front I put up for de crew…Dey don’t know de real me.”

 

“What front?”

 

“I relish de plunder as much as dey do, but een affairs of the heart….”Here he stood under the family crest, smiling enigmatically, but blushing more than a little.

 

“Go ahead and talk to Miss Kane. I know you can do it.”

He smiled nervously.

 

Melina headed further into the doorway. “You need anything?”

 

Karnage gave this a thought.

 

“Could you ask Keet to come and see me por favor? I hope he can help me too.”

 

“Yes. I will!”The panther smiled slyly and departed.

 

“Mr. Van Bruinwald, I’ve never really flown a lot in my life. I’m not gonna be piloting today, of course, but is it really as easy as it looks?”

 

Grace said edgily as she accompanied Baloo to the adjoining docks by Higher for Hire.

 

“Ahh, it’s a no brainer if you’ve got the skills. And please. Call me Baloo.”

 

 

Grace and Baloo were standing in front of a hefty yellow cargo jet; a Conwing L-16. Definitely an older beauty, but one that had obviously been well cared-for in her time.

 

“The duck here; she’s my baby.”

 

Baloo gave the Sea Duck’s side door a fond slap.

 

“Had her ever since ’25. I remember I used to joke, ‘I’m not getting’ married so long as I have my duck to fly!’”

 

“And nowadays?”

 

He just shrugged vaguely.

 

“Things change. Come on.”

 

Baloo opened the door and Grace gratefully stepped in. There was a small row of passenger seating (two seats) in the Sea Duck, and another seat beside the pilot’s. That was all. “Miss Kane; sorry if the engine’s loud. I spent a small fortune trying to get her fixed again.”

 

“I don’t mind noise.”

 

Grace smiled and sat down.

 

Baloo got them airborne, and for a few minutes all was silent. Grace stared out the narrow window. The sky was laced with heavy, thick gray clouds now.

 

“So, how long have you and Karnage been at each other’s throats, Baloo?”

 

Grace asked casually.

 

Baloo sighed and kept his eyes on the controls.

 

“Karnie and I, we go way back….’Bout a year or so. That’s way back in my book.”

 

“And how do you know where his hideout is?”

 

“Been there a couple times. Ain’t pretty.”

 

He winced.

 

They had several miles to go to Pirate Island; and the weather was getting worse and worse. After a while a steady rainfall began to trickle, and Baloo cussed under his breath. “It any harder flying in crappy weather?”

 

“Only by a thousand times.”

 

The bear grunted as he gunned the engines, and the Sea Duck’s speed began to increase slowly, but still increased. Thunder flashed dully in the background as the skies turned to solid gray.

 

“Baloo?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I uh….I think we got company.”

 

There was a panicked edge to Grace’s voice as she leaned out the window. Six planes were edging out of the fog towards the Sea Duck: Three Kalinin K 7’s (manufactured heavily in Thembria), and three L7 Staggerwings. All of which proudly bore Shere Khan’s private insignia.

 

“Damnit!”

 

Baloo brought a heavy black fist onto the control panel.

 

Speaking into his radio, he tried to choose his words as carefully as possible:

 

“Molly, Becky, Miss Kane and I are flyin’ free, but we got some Khannies on our ass. Let’s hope this goes well. Over an’ out.”

 

“What are you gonna do?”

 

Grace whispered; feeling like an idiot for not knowing anything about how planes worked.

 

“Try an’ see if I can get through without a fight.”

 

Baloo said in an offhand stage whisper.

 

The Kalinins and Staggerwings remained hot on Grace and Baloo’s heels, and Baloo swerved sharply to the right as a bullet pierced the Sea Duck’s left wing.

 

“That asshole…!”

 

Grace wasn’t sure if Baloo was referring to Shere Khan himself or the pilot who had fired the shot.

 

“I swear this is the great fuckin’ war all over again. Excuse my language.”

 

Baloo sighed.

 

“Maybe you should try contacting Kit; wherever he might be. Just as an experiment.”

 

Baloo gave this some thought as he steered with increasing haste.

 

Sending a quick message to the Iron Vulture, Baloo sent via the radio, again:

Little Britches; are you aboard the Vulture? Mayday, mayday, we need your advice!

 

One of the Staggerwings had fired two bullets into the Duck’s right wing, and by now she’d begun to tailspin fast.

“I hope he got it…..”

Baloo gritted his teeth as he struggled to keep the plane airborne.

 

The Sea Duck lacked guns; and such things would have come in handy in such a situation, and Baloo silently hoped they would make it through.

 

Meanwhile, aboard the Iron Vulture, some radio commercial for canned tuna was interrupted by static, as well as a message:

 

Little Britches, are you aboard the Vulture? Mayday, mayday, we need your advice!

 

“Baloo!”

 

Karnage, who had been listening from bed idly for the past half hour, leapt up (despite his nearly-healed injury) and ran to the radio.

 

“Baloo!”

 

Why on earth would his archenemy be calling his vessel? Why else! For Kit!

 

Karnage listened for a moment more.

 

The Khannies…they got us surrounded. Three L7 Staggerwings, and three Kalinin K7’s. We’ve already been shot three times. We need you! They’re gonna kill us out here, damnit!

 

More blaring static.

 

Karnage had little time to act on his thoughts, or think on his actions. Yes, he had a rivalry with Baloo but it was a sporting rivalry and nothing less. And besides- Felipe Karnage was also a wolf of honor, and to let his enemy die in a situation like this would be most uncharitable. A message was already forming in his head as he hurried down to the radio room- He’d find somebody to contact Kit in a moment. But first there were priorities.

 

The Sea Duck was scraping by when a message was picked up from the Iron Vulture

"Dees ees de Ghost Wolf! Backup ees on de way! I repeat, backup ees on de way!"

 

A gasp erupted in Grace’s throat. The voice was unmistakable.

 

“THAT WAS KARNAGE!!!”

 

“Damned if it ain’t.”

Baloo agreed from the front seat, shaking his head.

 

“This day gets stranger and stranger by the instant.”

 

He paused to swerve and jerk upward as a hail of bullets pierced the Duck’s windshield.

 

“Don’t look now Miss Kane but we got an aircraft carrier at 5 o’ clock!”

 

“SHIT!!!!!!!!”

 

Not just AN aircraft carrier. SHERE KHAN’S aircraft carrier. There was a difference.

 

By the time the Duck had nearly completed her hopeless downward tailspin, Karnage was far too late. Shere Khan had won this battle straight from the beginning, and that fact was one that gave him great satisfaction.

 

 

When Grace’s eyes flickered open who knows how long later, she felt like she had a hangover. There was a massive throbbing in her skull, and a general sense of disorientation all around.

 

“Ugh…..”

 

Moaning, Grace rubbed her temple slowly with a paw and her eyes flickered open. Then it all came back to her; and she remembered now she certainly had not been drinking. She was imprisoned in what was probably a storage room. It was tiny, narrow, and didn’t contain much except for boxes and crates, and the wooden chair Grace was tied to (yes, with rope!)

 

Damnit! They got me, and Baloo too!

 

The only light came in the form of a swinging, flickering lamp above her head.

 

Because the light made her throbbing skull hurt even more, Grace avoided it and continued to think on her dilemma. They had obviously been picked up by a Khan aircraft, but she was a deadbeast if Luciano didn’t have a role in this.

 

At that moment, the dog was startled by voices outside the door (faintly)

 

“……Excuse me; can you run and get Luciano?”

 

“I d-d-don’t know where he is…..”

 

There was a sound of somebeast getting slammed against a wall none too gently.

 

“Then I suppose I’ll have to get him myself.”

The steely voice (Grace guessed was Shere Khan; having never met him) purred.

 

“Come on; you’re going with me!!”

 

A louder slam, and a whimpering cry.

 

Then, there was the sound of clicking pawsteps going down the hallway, and all was silent.

 

After an undetermined period of time, there was an obnoxious banging on the door.

 

“Miss Kane…..I’m commmiiiiiinnggggg…..”

 

It trilled in such a way that made Grace want to slap someone.

 

The door clicked open, and Luciano himself strutted in, with another dog (Vincent Collieone) alongside him.

 

“Go find someone else to torture, you bastard!”

 

Grace snarled as Luciano approached her chair. Luciano just ignored her.

 

“I’m not gonna have any of that snappy talk, Miss Kane. You’re going to tell me what you know about Karnage…..or else!”

 

He chuckled slyly and took a step forward so that he was directly in front of Grace.

 

“Karnage? I don’t what the hell you’re talking about!”

 

Grace tried her very best to keep her voice annoyed but very disoriented.

 

Luciano wasn’t buying it.

 

“The hell you do!”

 

He backhanded her roughly across the cheek.

 

Grace recoiled in pain but bared her teeth at Luciano. He just laughed. After that, Luciano began to pace the room. He said condescendingly to his prisoner:

 

“Now Miss Kane. I know you’re lying. Tell me everything you know about Felipe Karnage and I’ll stop hurting you, but if you keep lying to me I’ll be forced to….Increase the severity of your punishments.”

A sly smile curled up on his face, and Grace just gave herself the liberty of spitting at him.

 

Luciano ignored her, wiped the spit out of his eye with a perfumed lace handkerchief, and said:

 

“Let’s try a different approach: How do you KNOW Karnage?”

 

“I never met him. I’ve never even SEEN him apart from newspaper and newsreel!”

 

Despite the ropes concealing most of her body, Luciano gave Grace a hard punch to the stomach. Were she standing the dog would have doubled over in pain, but tied to a chair it was just enough to make her neck cock back agonizingly, her watery eyes locking with the searing, swinging light above.

 

Panting raggedly, Grace glared at Luciano and his partner in crime. It was full of vengeance, contempt, and most of all; cold hate.

 

“Is that all you got Luciano?”

 

She rasped.

 

“Well we can do this all night! Or morning. Or whatever time it is. Either way; whatever you have up your greasy sleeve, bring it on! I can take it!”

 

Luciano just smiled.

 

“Only if you insist my dear……”

He tipped her head back again.

 

Grace just struggled and chomped down on his fingers. A German Shepherd’s bite contains 238 pounds of force, and Luciano felt each and every one of them as the dog sank her fangs into his paw and digits.

 

Yelping, the Dogfather withdrew the paw like he’d touched a hot iron. Grace was grinning victoriously, but already the other dog was concocting plans to wipe that smug little grin from her face.

 

And it went on like that for the next hour or so. Luciano would ask Grace about Karnage, she’d deny anything she was asked, and so the manhandling and physical abuse got worse and worse.

 

Finally, Luciano became unhinged. Patience was a virtue even for him, and what little he had was mostly for show. Now was the time for the Dogfather to show his true colors, and Grace figured she knew this.

 

“Miss Kane….”

 

He grunted, standing over her with what seemed to be a blunt object concealed behind his back.

 

“I will give you one last chance to tell me what you know about Karnage. And you know what will happen to you if you do or don’t.”

 

Grace glared wearily at the Dogfather. By now she was covered in various scrapes, cuts and bruises; and had gotten a bloody muzzle and a swollen eye among other unpleasant injuries.

 

“And I’m going to tell you….”

 

Grace whispered venomously, sides heaving.

 

“I don’t know a damned thing about Karnage and I’d never tell you if my life depended on it. So if you want, fucking shoot me because at any rate death is better then sitting here being tortured like this!”

 

“Ta-ta for now Miss Kane. You’ve had your last chance.”

 

Grace’s eyes widened in stunned horror as Luciano produced a billy club from behind his back. Before Grace even had time to scream; he raised it and brought it down on her head, and just before she felt the explosion of pain, Grace was assaulted with a thousand red-hot blinking lights, and then, a slow dark.


	9. Chapter Nine

Karnage and his fellow air pirates were out for blood. After Karnage had gotten the frantic radio call from Baloo; he'd left the Vulture, and gotten into his infamous tri-wing (AKA Hell's Bells) He'd picked Hal, Mad Dog, Melina, Dumptruck and his head mechanic, Ratchet, to fly with him, and everyone was armed to the teeth. Now they traversed through the thick, slate-gray fog for Khan's buddies.

"Cap'n I can't see nothin' out there!"

 

Ratchet called, yelling out the words rather than broadcasting it via radio.

 

Karnage said nothing.

 

"Cap'n THEY'VE TAKEN OFF!!!!"

 

The skinny wolf roared in a louder voice.

 

Karnage did not approve.

 

"Agh! Ratchet you are making my ears bleed! Of course I can see they are not here!"

 

"Sorry."

 

Ratchet coughed and smiled nervously, looking apologetic.

 

Karnage ignored Ratchet for a few moments, checking the scene for any trace of Khan's planes. There were none. Were he a fool and had he not gotten the radio message; Karnage would have fumed and called this a cheap prank.

 

The wolf froze however, as static began to crackle on his radio. Voices could be heard.

 

“I will give you one last chance to tell me what you know about Karnage. And you know what will happen to you if you do or don’t.”

 

Karnage froze in his seat. Luciano!

 

“And I’m going to tell you…. I don’t know a damned thing about Karnage and I’d never tell you if my life depended on it. So if you want, fucking shoot me because at any rate death is better then sitting here being tortured like this!”

 

GRACE!

 

“Ta-ta for now, Miss Kane. You’ve had your last chance.”

There was a cut-off yelp of pain as Luciano brought down a blunt object on what Karnage could only assume was Grace’s head.

 

Feeling hot rage building within him, Karnage listened for more.

 

“Oh yes Felipe Karnage. I know you’re listening. Khan and I are in cahoots now; isn’t that funny? We’ve got Baloo and that little dog of yours too!”

 

The voices were drowned out by static, and then, silence.

 

For a moment, Karnage was in a state of shock. He even actually stopped breathing for a moment, and time stood still. It took a moment for Luciano’s words to sink in. And when they did…….

 

“THAT BASTARD!” Karnage roared; his eyes alight with callous fury. “He has Miss Kane! And even that dingbat pilot Baloo! To infierna! If he keels me I am not giving two shits!”

 

There were several murmurs of mild annoyance among the crew (although Melina stayed quiet) and Ratchet piped up: “Aww, cool it, Cap’n!”

 

Karnage glared icily at the younger wolf as he passed by. “And who are you to tell me to ‘cool eet’?!”

 

Ratchet muttered under his breath: “Aww you’re just upset because you love this Miss Kane.”

 

This set Karnage off completely.

 

“You estupid boy! Do you have wax in your ears? Are you forgetting that I am the dread pirate Don Karnage? I am a pirate, Ratchet, a pirate! And pirates do not go about falling een love!”

 

And that was the last of that argument.

 

“Come, my men….and women.”

 

He glanced to Melina.

“Let us be going back to de bird!”

 

There were hasty mutters of agreement, and a second later, the fearless band of rapscallions that were the Air Pirates had disappeared within the foggy clouds.

 

“Ughhhh…..”

 

Grace slowly came to in an empty, dimly-lit storage room that reeked of what she guessed was wet paint. She was lying on a dirty heap of straw in one corner, and aching all over. Baloo was sitting on the far side of the room, an angry but vacant look on his face.

 

“Baloo?”

Grace shakily got to her footpaws and in a moment was able to stand easily.

 

“Yeah?”

 

He sighed.

 

“How long we been here?”

 

Baloo rolled back both his sleeves, revealing bare wrists.

 

“Don’t know. Could’ve been a year for all I know.”

 

“My head hurts like hell….”

Grace paused.

 

“What did Khan and Luciano’s goons do to you?”

Her voice was tinged with worry.

 

Baloo waved her off good-naturedly, a bit of his confident old self shining through.

 

“Nothin’ a grown bear can’t handle, Miss Kane.”

 

He flexed his muscular arms in demonstration and Grace managed a brief laugh.

 

“So do you have any escape plans. Mr. Grown Bear?”

 

Baloo paused thoughtfully.

 

“Actually….I think I might….Come here.”

 

He cautiously waved Grace over, holding a finger up for quiet.

 

“We don’t know who could be watching.”

 

Grace nodded and crept over to listen.

 

Meanwhile, in the control room, all was well for Grace and Baloo’s two capturers, Shere Khan and Luciano diVenazetti. The dog and the tiger were having a smoke in their plush velvet swivel chairs, laughing as they did.

 

“Easier then taking candy from a baby!”

 

Luciano crowed, slurping wine.

 

Shere Khan gave him a stony look.

 

“I wouldn’t say that just yet, Luciano. Be thankful that that blundering wonder Karnage isn’t on our tails at the moment.”

 

“Blundering wonder….hah, good one.”

 

Luciano drank again, his dark muzzle covered in clear red.

 

“Although I will admit it was clever of you ransoming off Miss Kane and Mr. Baloon the way you did. Perhaps you crime bosses are a bit smarter than I took you for.”

Khan paused and gave Luciano a long stare.

 

“What’re you lookin’ at?”

 

The Dogfather growled.

 

Khan quickly regained himself.

 

“Oh. Nothing, Luciano.”

 

Luciano leaned forward, fur bristling.

 

“I once had Karnage prisoner myself! You hear that, buster? I DID!”

 

Khan was suddenly very invested, no pun intended.

 

“Oh? In what manner?”

 

Luciano set down his now-empty wine goblet and returned to taking a drag on his imported cigar.

 

“Funny story, you know. He tried to double cross once back in ’37 but I thought I teached him good….”

Time seemed to fly in reverse to that fateful day…..

 

March 12th, 1937

 

Felipe Karnage was led, wrists bound into the dungeon in the Dragon’s Lair. Formerly known simply as the basement when the lair was an operating hotel, it was now reduced to a lead-walled, mildew-infested hellhole filled with knee-splitters, breaking wheels, pendulums, and wall restraints for target practice.

 

Screeching and cussing like a cat scalded with a pail of hot water, Karnage fought every step of the way as he was led down the dusty stairs. Interestingly, he was not wearing his typical Captain’s uniform, but rather a simple off-white shirt with black suspenders, and matching brown-gray pants. He could have been an ordinary wolf on the street, and that was the effect Karnage had been going for when he’d attempted to flee Cape Suzette by car.

 

Luciano’s goons had found him nonetheless, and now he was being brought back to be ‘dealt with’ as the Dogfather had so pleasantly worded it. Karnage bared his teeth as he was shoved into a three-legged chair, and his arms and legs were bound with thick cords of leather.

 

Luciano himself strutted up to Karnage like a peacock in mating season, brandishing a hypodermic syringe filled with a murky gray liquid.

 

“You had your last chance Karnage. Now hold still!”

 

“Hold steel my ass!”

 

Karnage snapped in Spanish, teeth still bared, eyes wild.

 

Luciano’s eyes were like cold copper as he grabbed Karnage’s left arm none too gently, rolled up his sleeve, and with a great amount of brute force as he hurriedly sought out a vein and jammed the needle in.

 

Karnage gave a loud howl of pain, but quickly went silent as the syringe was removed from his arm. His eyes were dull, blank and glassy now; the fire that had once danced there long extinguished.

 

Luciano clapped the wolf on the back heartily and undid his bonds.

 

“Good boy!”

He crooned.

 

“Now tell me, who is your only ally?”

 

“Luciano diVenazetti, my Dogfather and my don.”

 

Karnage knelt with the subservience of a pet or a slave, and then rose to kiss Luciano’s pawring.

 

“Am I dismissed?”

 

Luciano just nodded.

 

“Si, signore.”

 

And with that, Karnage exited the room.

 

When the wolf had gone, Luciano turned to his gathered comrades.

 

“And that; my men, is how you make a proper slave!”

 

“Excellent story.”

 

Shere Khan was smiling and nodding when Luciano had finished speaking.

 

“All in a day’s work. I’ll do the same for Mr. van Bruinwald and Miss Kane if they don’t comply. Now…..More wine, Mr. Khan?”

 

A full meeting had gathered in the Iron Vulture’s unofficial war room. It was a cramped and mismatched little room, with a long table with a mismatched chair for each pirate (another had to be dragged in with the addition of Melina) , and they all sat around a lopsided faux-wood table with various initials and dirty words scraped into the surface. Above the door, a maple-framed portrait of the 1865 wedding of Karnage’s paternal grandparents, Olivia and Diego hung. The opulently, if not overdressed couple both had tight-lipped and severe expressions, as though to glare imperiously down at whoever came through the doorway.

 

Per usual, Karnage sat at the head of the table in an overstuffed pink armchair, slurping down a tankard of raspberry brandy. The crew just stared at him in shock. This was an unheard of sight. However, Karnage was not quite as dry as he bragged, and sometimes DID enjoy a little alcohol; just when his always-snooping crew was well out of sight.

 

And when the wolf DID feel a need to drink in front of his crew; he drank like a fish. And Karnage only drank in front of his crew while having a very, very bad day. This was one of them.

 

The awkward silence was suddenly shattered as Karnage forcefully set down the now-empty tankard with a BANG! His face between his paws, the wolf surveyed his gathered crew the way a tyrant surveys their kingdom. He was still pretty sober.

 

“At-hem….My menacing minions, I refuse to let--”

 

Here he growled, and spat on the table.

“Venazetti keel dem! I need your help! We must help them, even if that airhead Baloo is my arch-anemone!”

 

Karnage took a deep breath and paused, calming down.

 

“I know thees is suicidio but dey need my help!”

 

Melina was sitting between Karnage and Kit.

 

“So what’s our first line of action, Captain?”

 

First Karnage addressed Kit.

 

“Keet, you pilot de bird for us. And you had better do eet right! We’re not only brnging our planes, but de Vulture as well.”

 

Melina couldn’t help but interrupt.

 

“Really??”

 

“Si, Melina. We’re going to need heavy backup.”

 

She grinned wickedly.

 

“You want me to help, Captain?”

 

“Si!”

 

Karnage rose from his chair and went to the radio at the end of the room. He activated it and screeched over the channel:

 

“Baloo, Senorita Kane, de Ghost Wolf ees on de way. Luciano diVenazetti, we weel ALL relish de screaming as we skeen you alive!!!!”

On Khan’s aircraft carrier, Luciano heard the shouted message loud and clear.

 

Karnage turned to look at his crew, weeping openly; the air of menace he’d donned for the radio message dropping away, being false.

“You have no idea…..how proud of you….I am.”

 

His announcement affected them all profoundly.

 

Hal stopped scribbling in his dictionary. Dumptruck stopped bouncing his little yo-yo. Kit stopped carving his initials into the table. Diego and Olivia kept right on staring.

 

Silence reigned again.

 

Karnage, however, smiled mysteriously, patting his sheath and gun holster respectively, twirling his revolver arrogantly like a Western hero.

Melina leaned in close to him.

 

“What’s the plan?”

“I made modifications to my tri-wing in recent months. I need a gunner. We won’t need de planes unteel we get eento close combat.”

 

Kit spoke up.

 

“We’ll be ambushing Venazetti, right?”

 

Karnage nodded vigorously, grinning from ear to ear.

 

“Si! When we do, Melina weel you….?”

 

His gaze shifted to the pantheress.

 

“Yes. I will.”

 

Karnage turned to Mad Dog.

 

“Mad Dog I need to borrow your…..”

 

“Ammunition, Cap’n?”

 

The skinny wolf threw an awkward salute.

“Why si, si de ammunition.”

 

And with that, Mad Dog was running from the room.

 

After he was gone, Karnage put a footpaw upon his chair and leaned forward, drawing his sword and waving it for dramatic affect.

 

“Come on my men and women! Let us away and rescue Baloo and dat Miss Kane!”

 

Everyone went stampeding out of the room, with Karnage at the head of the pack (no pun intended) looking for all the world like a schoolboy on the first day of summer.


	10. Chapter Ten

Roughly 20 minutes went by. Karnage and his fellow Air Pirates had resumed their chase; and were now at Take 2; this time with EVERYONE coming along for the ride. Karnage had been able to track Khan and Luciano north (having picked up some telltale messages from their radio; and loose lips DO sink ships)

Felipe Karnage glanced at the ensuing hail of bullets at the slate-gray sky. The beginnings of a sly smile graced his muzzle, but it was more enigmatic than anything else. So far several on his side had been shot down; and Karnage silently hoped that they had parachutes- although this was certainly no time to be thinking about such things.

 

Cursing softly in a mix of English AND Spanish, Karnage maneuvered his tri-wing to the back of Khan’s aircraft carrier. There was a large gate of sorts at the back for entering planes to land; be taken through a large steel door, and then locked in. If the lock could be picked; then it was only a matter of time until he got to Baloo and Miss Kane!

 

With this thought in mind, Karnage made as smooth a landing as was humanly possible, given the circumstances, and examined the doors in front of him.

He got out and checked them closely. They were forbidding; and made out of definite solid steel. It would take a blowtorch (which Karnage sadly did not have) to force it open, unless he could find. . . . The wolf’s eyes fell on a large, hefty padlock binding the double doors together and keeping them shut. Helena had taught him how to lockpick years ago, a skill he’d passed on to Kit.

Fishing around in his pocket; Karnage found what he needed: A small paperclip! BLOWTORCH BE DAMNED!

He took a moment to bend it into a straight piece of metal, and carefully inserted it into the lock. After moments more of fiddling, the padlock fell to the floor with a metallic: Clang!! Karnage didn’t waste a moment in yanking the door open and rushing past the open door into the shadows of the next room.

“Dat was as easy as taking candy from a baby duck off a log…”

Karnage muttered, his voice echoing of the walls.

 

Indeed. It was almost TOO easy.

 

The holding area Karnage trotted through could not be called a ‘hangar’ per se; it was far too small. It was just a storage space for Khan’s planes, and in this case; whatever planes may have been captured.

 

Let us be seeing….

 

He thought, gazing at the planes around him.

 

There to de left there is a Gee Bee R-1, a Lockheed Electra 10A, and is dat a Martin M-130 against de wall?

 

Naming familiar planes out of habit calmed the wolf a little, and by the time he was out of the cargo hold, Karnage’s throbbing heart had slowed just a little. The adjoining hallway was dark and dimly lit save for a few doors; behind which there was a damp glow implying light.

 

Shadows seem to twist and morph hideously around the walls, and suddenly Karnage could recall all too clearly his sister Rosa’s squealing cries of “Helena there’s a monster in the hallway!”

 

Which monsters were more dangerous; real or imagined? It was a cryptic question, like something from a Mynese fortune cookie, and Karnage had time to entertain that thought a little as he paced down the narrow and seemingly neverending hallway.

 

Loud, echoing pawsteps approached him seemingly from nowhere, and the wolf turned around in a flash; his brain still not quite positive of what had occurred. Standing at the end of the hallway and getting closer by the second was Don Luciano diVenazetti. And he had a guard, a muscular Rottweiler with him.

 

“Freeze! Don’t run. Get those paws up, Karnage. There’s no turning back now.”

 

There was cold glee in Luciano’s eyes as he already aimed his tommy gun at Karnage until the wolf’s paws were shakily held in the air above his head.

 

“You know, it’s a real pleasure to see you so…up-close. A year is a while.”

 

Karnage attempted to stall.

 

“I thought you did not do greetings, yes-no?”

 

Luciano just smirked.

 

“Being the King of Cape Suzette I must have my manners, you know. Any last requests?”

 

Karnage dodged, backing against the wall as Luciano readied his weapon.

 

“Only that you rot in infierno!”

 

Karnage lunged forward and yanked his pistol from his belt, silently hoping it was loaded. It turned out; yes! He pulled the trigger, and the bullet hit Luciano square in his left shoulder with a resounding BANG!

 

The Dogfather gave a cry of pain before dropping his own gun and sprawling over on the floor, unconscious; his wound already starting to ooze.

 

Luciano’s bodyguard, being a coward, had little to say. He only glared at Karnage, muttering

 

“Ohhh you bastard….”

 

“So is that de best you can do, yes-no?”

 

The wolf hurried up until he was staring the dog right in the eye.

 

“Where are de prisoners; Miss Kane and Baloo? You have less den one minuto to act!”

 

Karnage snarled, grabbing the dog by his throat and shoving his cutlass blade under it.

“Er…..uhhh….You take a, a right. It’s the second door on the hallway to the right.”

 

“Do you have de key?”

 

“R-Right here.”

 

With an involuntary squeal, he indicated his belt.

 

“Dat is all I wish to be hearing.”

In a wild flurry of movement, just before the guard had time to act; Karnage whipped his sword back and brought the handle down against the canine’s head. Hard. It was just enough to make him double over in unconsciousness; but barely.

 

Muttering a thank you to whatever higher power that had enabled him to be so fortunate, Karnage fell to his knees and searched the guard’s belt for what he was looking for. A silver ring studded with one key- Obviously to wherever Grace and Baloo were being held.

 

Running down the hallway like he’d always been told not to do during his brief time in school, Karnage followed the guard’s instructions carefully. Best to get Baloo and Grace out of here before the aircraft carrier was ripped apart by battling animals.

 

“Well I’ll be damned….”

 

Grace rose from her ‘mattress’ of straw, or tried to as she heard the sound of a key being inserted into the door’s lock.

 

“OW!!!”

 

She let out a yelp of pain and fell back. Grace gingerly examined her knees and legs. They were badly bruised; worse than she’d realized, and she infuriatingly noted it would be maybe a few hours before she could walk properly. They were screwed.

“Are you all right Miss Kane?”

Baloo asked her worriedly.

 

“Yeah. I’m fine; those assholes just busted my knees though.”

 

Grace shakily rose to a half-sitting position while Baloo relaxed against the wall. They both watched with bated breath as the door opened slowly and then was slammed against the wall.

 

Don Felipe Karnage stood in the doorway.

 

Grace’s tongue lolled and her jaw dropped. Baloo had more or less the same reaction; but more severe.

 

“Karnie?!”

 

He half-screamed, half-gasped.

 

Karnage nervously turned to look back into the hallway behind him; obviously to make sure he wasn’t being followed. Then he turned back to Grace and Baloo.

 

“Dere is no time to be explaining!”

 

Addressing Baloo, he said:

 

“You must meet me at my most secret hiding-out place within an hour. Please. Eet is important.”

 

Baloo and Grace exchanged glances.

 

“Well what about me?”

Grace inched forward on her knees.

 

“Come with me.”

 

“I can’t. Luciano’s goons wrecked my knees. I can’t even walk right!”

 

She grimaced and indicated her wounds.

 

Karnage went to Grace’s side and lifted her into his arms. Trying not to blush, Grace said it like it was:

 

“My hero?”

 

Although it was worth noting that the wolf was surprisingly gentle with her.

 

Turning to Baloo, Karnage said:

 

“Remember; one hour!”

 

“Yeah I got it, man……”

 

Baloo muttered, and tore off down the hallway.

 

Just because a male is carrying me does NOT make me a dumbass in distress….

 

Grace thought; but enjoyed pretending to be a romantic movie heroine (as she had while a teenager) just one more time as she was carried off down the endlessly twisting hallways of Khan’s flying hideout.

 

The flight back to Pirate Island was uneventful. Grace found herself sandwiched next to Karnage in his tri-wing (it had been designed with only one seat); and neither of them said much. Around the same time Baloo was flying there in the Sea Duck.

 

As Karnage’s compound in the caves on Pirate Island was used more or less for treasure storage and plane housing, Grace and Karnage went aboard the Iron Vulture. The silence persisted as Grace was carried up the gangplank beneath the ‘beak’, and within the dark chambers of the hulking vessel.

 

“I weel let my second-een-command, Mad Dog take care of you. And then we weel talk.”

 

“What about?”

 

Grace asked, slightly curious.

 

Karnage gave this some thought.

 

“I am…. Not knowing.”

 

After ten more minutes of travel, they reached a small room (specifically; an unused bedroom for a crew member Karnage would rather not name; specifically Kit) that was stocked with a narrow bed, a nightstand. He was obviously trying to hide it, but a look of dulled sorrow passed Karnage’s face. He obviously had depressing memories of this room but Grace did not want to make the situation any worse than it already was.

 

Karnage laid Grace gently on the bed, and she gingerly pulled the mint-green blanket over her aching knees.

“I weel be back.”

 

He promised, and Grace heard him went out into the hallway. The door closed but she did not hear the click of a lock. The dog was still wondering what his intentions were as Karnage disappeared down the twisting hall.

 

In that same hallway, Karnage tensed, hearing distant screams and what was unmistakably the sound of a gun being fired.

Shit.

He picked up the pace and ran to the source of the growing din. In the Vulture’s control room; the remnants of chaos could be seen: Ratchet had his gun pointed at an irritated and confused-looking Baloo’s throat. Hal, Gibber, Hacksaw and Dumptruck all stood nearby, looking equally-disoriented as to what had just gone on.

 

Karnage tapped a footpaw impatiently; waiting for an explanation. Hal gulped and stepped forward, wiping his temple nervously out of habit.

 

“Cap’n, he’s our enemy……”

 

Karnage ran a paw through his fur in mounting temper.

 

“I TOLD YOU I SENT HEEM! YOU NINCOMPIRATES!”

 

The expressions on the gathered canines’ (and one feline’s) faces rapidly shifted to shame.

 

Karnage began to pace in anger, and waved his sword at Ratchet in an unspoken command to back off. “Karnie….”

 

Baloo watched in growing amazement.

 

Karnage took several moments to calm down. He then waved Baloo off with surprising good nature and said as calmly as he could to the bear:

 

“Please. Call me Felipe.”

 

Turning to his crew, Karnage said with controlled impatience, but typical of his ego:

 

“Everybody out! We are not having de time for dis mis-messing around! OUT!”

 

Karnage sat down in his art-deco Captain’s chair and stared Baloo down, long and hard. He said calmly and firmly:

“We both have a common disliking for Luciano diVenazetti, yes-no? But we weel be talking about dat later. Let us keel two stones with one bird and first talk of something else.”

 

Baloo was more than a little hesitant.

 

“Like?”

 

“Why did you not look after Senorita Kane? She is a lady and is needing your protection, yes-no?”

 

Baloo sighed.

 

“I tried damn well, but I couldn’t. Luciano’s men separated us straight away. Interrogated us separately.”

 

Now Karnage was interested.

 

“What of?”

 

Baloo paused, wincing.

 

“Whether or not we knew anything about you. I kept saying no and so did she. They beat me something awful; and then threw me in a cell with Miss Kane and we talked about escapin’.”

 

“Mhmmmm….mmhmmmm….And what ees Luciano planning?”

 

Baloo sighed.

 

“Hell if I know. Only that he wants to….”

 

An awkward silence unfurled.

 

“…..Si. I am knowing.”

 

Karnage stared at his footpaws.

 

“Say, how’d you get tied up with Luciano anyway?”

 

The wolf could tell now by Baloo’s tone that he was curious.

 

“Dat is…a story for another day. In de meantime, could we not have a temporary truce, yes-no?”

 

Baloo gave this a long thought.

 

“Temporary?”

 

“Si.”

 

The bear exhaled and thought a few moments more. It wouldn’t be forever; and they DID share a hatred of Luciano diVenazetti……

 

“A truce it is. Temporary.”

 

They hastily shook paws, and Karnage disappeared somewhere within the darkened bowels of the Iron Vulture.

 

Maybe to play a pipe organ, or muse at all the thunder while readin’ some poetry.

 

Baloo thought, and laughed a little before heading off himself. There was only one thought on his own mind: Kit.

 

As Karnage hurried back down the hallway to Grace, he froze outside the door; hearing a loud, raucous screeching.

 

“OW!!!!! STOP! THAT HURTS LIKE A SON OF A BITCH!”

 

Grace’s howl of pain was recognizable anywhere; and from anyplace as well.

 

A string of curses racing through his mind but going unsaid, Karnage yanked his sword from its sheath and flung the door open. The sight that confronted him was not what he expected: The blanket on Grace’s bed had been pulled back, and she was sitting with her knees exposed.

 

MadDog was sitting beside her, now with a scared and sheepish look on his face; holding a rag dampened with some liquid to Grace’s bruises.

 

“Cap’n; I was just treatin’ her bruises with iodine. That’s all I did; honest! But she’s one hell of a screamer.”

 

“Fuck yes.”

 

Grace muttered dryly.

 

“Geet out, MadDog.”

 

“Why?”

 

“You eediot; it’s lunchtime!”

 

MadDog took a moment to study the clock on the wall. 12:37.

 

“Riiight! I can’t believe I didn’t notice. Bye Cap’n!”

 

He sprinted from the room.

 

Now that they were alone together, Grace turned to Karnage:

 

“So what do you want?”

 

She said honestly.

 

Karnage took a few steps forward, but not before putting his cutlass away.

 

“Only to clean your wounds and scrapety-cuts.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Grace was clearly surprised, but remained silent. Karnage left the room for a moment, but then returned with a small towel dampened with something wet.

 

“Water?”

 

Grace guessed aloud.

 

Karnage nodded.

 

“Si. It is all we are having apart from de iodine.”

 

Grace did not flinch as Karnage gently cleaned her wounds (even though the water had clearly been treated with possibly a soap as a makeshift disinfectant); the water did not sting like the iodine had. She didn’t even whimper.

 

Having time now to focus on something other than her pain, Grace asked the million-dollar question (or in this time period; thousand dollar):

 

“Why are you so nice to me? You don’t have to be, you know. I’m not worth it.”

 

Karnage shrugged.

 

“I am seemply a wolf of honor; I act on de code.”

 

“What, you actually have a code of honor? Why?”

 

Grace got the feeling Karnage was being vaugue on purpose; but why she wasn’t quite sure.

 

“My sisters and I…..let us be saying that we came from a noble family of noble pirates. Since diecisiete setenta y cinco.”

 

“And that means?”

 

“1775.”

 

“Damn!”

 

Grace paused.

 

“I’ve never had a male other than my father be, well, like this to me before. I used to date my cousin, Noah but that was years ago and it was…. Kid love. It didn’t last long and he found other females.”

 

She blushed visibly. By now Karnage was done cleaning Grace’s knees. He stood up, and discarded the towel.

“Er….Weel you dine with me in twenty-three minutos?”

 

Grace found it a little odd that Karnage would eat at a different time than his crew; but disregarded it and stood up, testing her legs. The pain was much better now and she could walk so long as she didn’t put too much weight on her injured knees.

 

“Yes. I will. And this isn’t a…..?”

 

“No. Eet is not.”

 

Not a date. Obviously, definitely not a date!

Was what they both were thinking. Karnage seemed more than happy to leave the room now, and Grace glanced down at her torn and rumpled clothes and wondered if there was any way to make herself look presentable.

 

Hal and Kit both finished lunch early (Though not at the same time) and found each other in the Air Pirate’s rec room. (or to give its more appropriate name; the WRECKED room!)

 

Peeling violet paint covered the plain metal skeleton of the walls; and it was dominated by a fading brown reclining chair, several other mismatched chairs, and a pool table.

 

At the end of the room there was a tiny icebox, and in another there was a nearly-broken radio that just broadcasted static 98 percent of the time; but when listenable, popular shows like Blood and water and the Drama of Nancy LaRonge could be heard. Kit was sprawled in the recliner sipping a soda that had expired on 9/4/38. He looked up, however, as Hal approached him; a partially-broken cuestick in paw.

 

“Hey.”

 

He said.

 

“Hi.”

 

Kit leaned back in the chair and drank what was left of his soda.

 

“Wanna play pool?”

 

Kit glanced up at Hal. At 22; the cat was little more than a teenager, and still had the brimming tenacity of one as well. Kit would much rather play pool with Hal than Karnage- he was widely-known as among the best pool players aboard the Iron Vulture and could make the former reigning champion Hacksaw shake in his boots.

 

“Sure.”

 

He said, and threw his soda can in the wastebasket with a Clang!

“You play pool often, sport?”

 

“I’d rather go by Kit.”

 

Hal ruffled Kit’s headfur.

 

“You play pool with me; I call ya Sport. Hal Barnhart don’t stare nobody wrong.”

 

Hal walked over to a black bucket where the three cuesticks were contained. He picked one that had been crudely painted with red paint and flames and threw it to Kit.

 

“So how are we playing?”

 

Kit gripped his cuestick firmly.

 

Hal gave this pause.

 

“Nine ball.”

 

“‘Kay.”

 

As Hal was setting up the balls, he casually asked:

“You ever play pool before?”

 

“A few times in here. How good are you?” “My old man taught me some. All he ever did for me. Apart from cleanin’ scalpels.”

 

Now that the balls were out of their triangular rack; the game was ready to begin.

 

Hal lunged forward and sent the apex ball spinning out of the triangle. But it fell short, and didn’t quite hit the pocket. The cat cussed but allowed Kit to take his turn.

 

Ten minutes went by. Kit fouled a few times; and several times Hal (being older) got the upper hand. The colored balls whizzed around their green-felted universe for seven minutes more until Kit managed to knock the apex into his pocket at the end of the table.

 

“You know, sport, you’re pretty decent.”

 

Hal said, even having some admiration for the younger animal.

 

“Thanks!”

 

“You can read?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Hal sighed wistfully.

 

“Yeah you and everybody else.”

Baloo walked into the Wrecked Room then. He got more than a few wary, suspicious and even curious stares from the gathered pirates.

 

Hal watched him from a distance; intending to stay neutral. Were this Karnage, the cat would have ran to him, knelt on one knee and possibly offer him a cigarette. But since this was Karnage’s archenemy, Hal kept quiet as Baloo approached the pool table just as they were putting away the balls.

 

“Heya, little Britches!”

 

Baloo greeted Kit, smiling shyly.

 

“Papa bear!!”

 

Kit ran to his father figure and hugged him close.

 

Hal watched them; quietly fighting off bitter memories of his own father.

 

“Hey.”

 

He said, staring at the floor.

 

“Who are you?”

Baloo asked, turning to look at Hal.

 

“Hal Barnhart, SIR!”

 

As though for Karnage, Hal took his cuestick and tapped it to his forehead in a mocking parody of a salute.

 

“Excuse us.”

Baloo said to Hal as he took Kit to the far corner of the room.

 

“Aww Kit, why are you back with Karnie?”

 

Kit sighed.

 

“I tried to make it clear in my note. I’m only doing this once! It’s not that big a deal!”

 

Baloo’s mind flashed back to the truce he’d made. Suddenly the scene replayed before his eyes.

 

“Look….I’m sorry Little Britches. I shouldn’t have acted that way.”

 

Baloo just hung his head sadly. All eyes in the Wrecked Room were on them now.

 

Kit paused and put on his navigator’s cap; which he’d been holding up to now, putting it on backwards in traditional style. In an attempt to cheer up Baloo he said:

 

“I just took it off because it’s so hot in here. Maybe we should go.”

 

Baloo glanced at the gawking onlookers who’d heard their semi-argument.

 

“Yeah, we’d better get goin’.”

 

“Hey, you all right?”

 

Hal came rushing up to them as they neared the door.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Kit answered.

 

“Yup. Just a little uh….Under the weather.”

 

“Mhmmm. Whatever ya say.”

 

Hal went back to the pool table then; but Kit saw something in the young cat’s eyes. But whether it was longing or just plain sadness, he couldn’t tell.

 

Grace walked down one of the Iron Vulture’s numerous hallways; stopping in front of a polished mahogany door. She’d been given directions to Karnage’s dining room (which he’d had for seven months now); and apparently this had to be it. While Grace found it a little dubious that the wolf would eat apart from his crewmates, she guessed his intended sense of isolation had to have been present for quite some time.

 

Just do it and get it over with. He’s kind of sexy anyway so why do you care?

 

Grace thought quietly to herself, and rapped on the door. There was a turning of a knob, and Karnage opened the door.

 

“Senorita Kane. Please come in.”

 

He held the door open for her, and hesitantly, Grace went in.

 

“Hello.”

 

Karnage’s dining room was something to look at:

Quiet, broad in shape and furnished only with a floral-patterned carpet (probably from the turn of the century), a long mahogany chair and several matching, cushioned, straight-backed chairs.

 

Karnage sat down and Grace sat across from him.

“So, this a new room?”

She asked, glancing around.

“Si.”

 

Grace made herself comfortable.

 

“So; did you order for us both?”

 

“Not yet. What would you like first?”

 

Grace gave this some thought before answering:

 

“I’ve always been partial to salmon; but that’s all I want. Thanks.”

 

“I weel be right back.”

 

Karnage smiled at her and left, no doubt to talk to whoever worked in the kitchen.

 

Not too long later, they were both served. Grace focused on her own lunch; a seemingly plain salmon that actually tasted quite good.

Since she had a habit of talking frequently while at meals; the dog said:

 

“You wanna talk?”

 

“Si. Could you tell me about your familia, por favor?”

Karnage smiled.

 

Grace’s heart thumped a little in her chest. She cleared her throat:

 

“I would but…..I really don’t want to talk about them. And my parents died when I was five; may they rest in peace.”

 

Karnage winced and buried his face in his paws, cussing at himself in Spanish repeatedly.

 

Grace had no clue what he was saying, but sensed his pain herself and grimaced.

“Miss Kane….I’m so sorry for saying what I did…. I’m a nincompup.”

 

“I forgive you though.”

Grace said sincerely.

 

“Can we at least TRY to change the subject? Please?”

 

She gave Karnage an innocent face.

 

He saw, smiled, and didn’t hesitate.

“Si.”

 

“What do you want to talk about, then? I was never really the social type.”

 

“Never was I, really. I was more eento books.”

 

Karnage paused thoughtfully; remembering the dusty library in his family home, with its decaying hardcover volumes and antique children’s fairy tale books with their fading embroidered covers.

 

Grace paused herself, realizing something.

 

“How did you get that plane of yours anyhow? The tri-wing?”

 

Karnage was silent for another moment, obviously remembering something that had happened long ago.

 

“I stole eet from a coyote named Diego Montoya. Dat was also mi abuelo’s name, Diego.”

 

He couldn’t help but scowl a little.

 

“How?”

 

“Eet ees a long story.”

 

Grace grinned.

“Tell me anyway.”

 

Karnage looked uncertain but went on:

 

“Diego…Had heard about my family. He was a notorious jewel smuggler but I’d never worked weeth heem. Dere was a bar I frequented; dere in de twenties. De Black Pelican. Eet was just outside de border of Karnageport. I mean, just outside in as in de building next to eet was inside our home boundary.”

 

Grace leaned forward, already engulfed.

 

“And then what?”

 

Here Karnage became visibly more animated.

 

“One day we both found each other een de bar at de same time. De bartender’s reaction was 'I can’t be damn bothered'. And he ran for de door. Diego threatened mi familia and verbally dishonored my sister Rosa. Honor demanded I defend dem. He threatened dees unless WE left Karnageport. Our HOME!”

 

He paused a moment.

“Dat was…. Junio diecisiete of 1929. I was steel living with my bastard father at de time. Diego challenged me to a duel. I had mi abuelo’s rapier on me. Everyone een de bar ran, dey knew what we intended.”

The wolf took a moment to clear his throat and get more ‘in character’

 

“He started off toying weeth me, trying to wear me down, stabbing me ieen de shoulder, de heep, de side. Den I came at heem, fangs bared, rapier at de ready. The bartender said dat after de duel was over, he had seen de flames of la infierna reflecting een my eyes at dat instant.”

 

“And you won, right?”

 

“Si! He asked me if eet was a duel to de death. I said:

‘No. To de PAIN! To de pain means the first thing you lose will be your feet below de ankles. Den your paws at de wrists. Next, your nose.’

He said ‘Then my tongue I suppose, Karnage’

‘I am not finished! De next thing you will lose will be your left eye followed by your right.’

 

‘And then my ears; I understand, let’s get on with it.’

 

‘WRONG! Your ears you keep and I’ll tell you why: So dat every shriek of every child at seeing your hideousness will be yours and yours to cherish; you’re a monster already. Every female who cries out ‘What is dat thing?!’ will echo een your perfect ears. Dat is what to de pain means. It means I leave you in anguish, wallowing in freakish misery forever.’

 

But I was too much of a coward to do dat.”

 

Karnage hung his head and looked ashamed.

“But at least I’d followed my code of honor- never keel another unless my life ees threatened directly. By de time de duel ended, he was seriously scarred and unable to move. Being a wolf of honor as I said; I got heem medical attention before taking hees sword and his plane. He wouldn’t have done de same for me. I scarred hees face for life. Took hees left eye, right ear and stabbed heem three times: Een de heep, de shoulder like he did to me, and….. I theenk you know.”

Karnage blushed, visibly embrassed.

“Let us be saying he was de last of hees family.”

By now both of them had finished lunch.

 

“That was….Entertaining. Honestly.”

 

Grace said.

 

“I always liked true stories. Even graphic ones. I AM a reporter; after all.”

 

She stood up from her chair and leaned against the wall.

 

Karnage glanced at her.

 

“Er…Could you be doing me a favor por favor?”

 

“And that would be?”

 

“Can you look for my fencing rapier? Eet was somewhere een my cabin last I saw eet; and I was going to practice later dis afternoon.”

 

“And where’s your cabin?”

 

“Down dis hallway, to de left.”

 

“Sure, why not.”

That was not a date.

 

Grace assured herself as she followed Karnage’s instructions.

 

Definitely not a date.

 

And with that; she hurried off to look for Karnage’s sword. It would at least kill some time.


	11. Chapter Eleven

By the time Luciano finally awoke; he was not happy. However, it took a moment for that to occur. The Dogfather was feeling strangely happy in a bizarre way as his eyes opened; almost like he’d gotten slightly drunk. However, he soon became aware of a blazing pain in his shoulder, and something thick and warm covering his body.

Blinking, Luciano saw he was in his bedroom; wearing blue silk pajamas. There was a blazing pain in his shoulder that instinctively made him want to rub it. Luciano started to but a firm paw grabbed his own and held it back. The owner of that other paw was Vincent Collieone.

 

Calling Luciano’s reaction surprise would be an understatement.

 

“Vinnie? What the hell you doing here?”

 

Vincent sighed. Luciano could see now he was sitting in a plush leather-and-velvet armchair near the bed, but rose and went over to the fire.

 

“You got shot boss but we got the bullet out okay.”

 

Suddenly most of it came back to the Dogfather.

 

“WHAT!? Who did it? Who?”

 

Vincent gulped.

 

“Do I gotta tell you boss?”

 

“Fuck yes, you do!”

 

Luciano staggered out of bed, approached the fireplace and grabbed Vincent by his downturned shirt collar. The collie whimpered involuntarily, which just made the Dogfather laugh.

 

“I’m waitin’ on you, Vincent. Who busted me up?”

 

“ALL RIGHT! Damnit, do you have to be so insistent boss? But…..I’m not going to lie: Karnage shot you. Right smack in the shoulder.”

 

Luciano’s anger multiplied by tenfold. Suddenly his eyes seemed to be the color of dark blood.

 

“You dirty little son of a whore.”

 

Luciano grated; his voice disturbing even at a semi-level tone.

 

“Were you there?”

 

“Y-yes….”

Vincent fibbed.

 

“LIAR!”

 

“But I’m not lying; boss! Honest!”

 

“You ARE lying.”

Luciano pressed his face close to Vincent’s. The collie flinched. He could smell the Dogfather’s foul breath.

 

“You’re lying because I can smell your fear. It covers you like a fucking blanket Vincent!”

 

Vincent looked like he was so terrified he was going to cry; but Luciano wasn’t done yet. Laughing sadistically, the Dogfather whispered icily:

 

“I want you to find Karnage.”

 

“But boss we don’t know where he went! He just disappeared into the fog and took that Miss Kane with him!”

 

“I don’t care if he’s halfway across the ocean to Thembria. I want you to find Karnage, and bring him to me. Don’t lay a paw on him; just bring him here. I want to be the one to do the honors….”

 

“Yes, my dogfather. Whatever you say!”

 

Vincent whimpered, no doubt embarrassed at how much he was sounding like Paul.

 

“But that’s not all Vinnie.”

 

The Dogfather viciously grabbed Vincent’s ear and twisted it so hard he yelped.

 

“I’ve got a little something planned for you….. Wait here while I get ready.”

 

“Wait here or what?”

 

“Risk getting a shot to the crotch.”

 

Luciano grinned and limped off into his huge walk-in closet next door. He came out several minutes later dressed in one of his infamous double-breasted suits and clutching one of his innumerable guns; a ’36 M1 Garand.

 

“I’ll still use it too if you’re not a good boy.”

 

Luciano whispered and half-dragged half-led Vincent from the bedroom. Luciano led him down a hallway, through the ballroom and then another corridor; all the way to a massive bird’s eye maple door. The door to the basement. Vincent was literally trembling in fear as Luciano flung open the door wide and shoved him down the dust-coated wooden steps.

 

The stairs were rough; and filled with rusty nails and termite holes, which irritated Vincent’s uncovered footpaws. By the time they reached the bottom of the 18-flight staircase, they literally were bleeding; but Luciano didn’t seem to notice.

 

Vincent was led past the standard torture devices he’d become accustomed to seeing, and to a huge oak table, with four leather straps on it; held in place with metal bolts.

 

“Do you know what this table is for, Vincent?”

 

Luciano’s tone was eerily like that of an over-patient elementary school teacher.

 

“A rack, boss?”

 

The Dogfather grinned.

 

“No. It’s a waterboard. I’m going to tie you to the table, and then throw this in your face.”

Luciano stooped and held up a rusty metal bucket. Dirty water sloshed as he held it up; and it was filled with dirt and dead bugs. Continuing, the Dogfather placed the bucket on the floor again and went on with his explanation.

 

“If I throw enough water on you; you could even get fucked-up in the head from lack of oxygen. But that would be too kind. I could break your arms and legs, or maybe even kill you!”

 

Luciano’s eerie grin just broadened by the second.

 

“But here’s what: I won’t kill you, or even break your bones. But I’m going to make sure you don’t forget this day, Vincent!”

 

Vincent knew now not to protest as Luciano shoved him onto the waterboard and strapped down his wrists and ankles.

 

The Dogfather bent, picked up the water bucket and threw some of it in Vincent’s face. That and the fact that he was tied down gave him the sensation of drowning; and the other dog tried to howl in pain, but his mouth was filled with water and he was choking and gagging.

 

Laughing giddily; Luciano repeated the process over and over again, doing it for what felt like centuries until the huge bucket was finally empty. Vincent lay, soaking wet on the board, his clothes completely soaked through, gasping and whimpering in fear.

 

“Who do you serve, Vincent Collieone?”

 

When the collie finally spoke; his voice radiated submissive fear:

 

“Luciano diVenazetti, the Dogfather.”

 

“Are you still a secondo capo Vincent?”

 

“No. No I am not. I did the wrong thing and failed you.”

 

“Good, good!”

 

Luciano undid the straps and pushed him off the table. Shakily, Vincent stood and leaned against the wall.

 

“Because of your failure, you will be denoted. But because I’m nice I will still allow you to go after Karnage. So go change into something dry; and get the fuck out of MY basement!”

 

Vincent was more than happy to obey.

 

Alone in his basement, Luciano did something truly eerie: He sat down on the dirt floor, and began to sing.

 

 

Upon entering Karnage’s cabin; Grace had to snicker. It was arrogant, decorated, but ironically sexy, just like he was. While taking a look around, it was obvious the wolf still completely adored himself above everyone else (well, maybe except for Helena and possibly even Grace) and always would despite his sudden crush.

 

Karnage’s sword was not on its rack nor had Grace expected to find it there. She spent at least ten minutes looking around before finally finding it, discarded under the bed. Most likely Dumptruck or any of the less-intelligent Air Pirates had snuck in and misplaced it.

 

Getting up and leaning against the wall; Grace paused to straighten her blouse, and tried to take the book from the nearby shelf, almost letting out a scream as the wall panel….FLIPPED OVER!

 

Grace tried to focus her eyes after the spinning of the wall had flapped, and did so in a large and pleasant-smelling world. The room she stood in resembled a luxurious bank vault and a princess’s sleeping chamber; lined with a spacious burgundy-style carpet on the floor, and several ornate tapestries and wall hangings. A room dedicated for Helena; for her to be reveled and worshipped like an ancient sacrifice or perhaps like the lost child she was. A room that had Helena’s very essence from ceiling to floor.

 

The air smelled faintly of roses, burning incense and floral perfume- but not too strong. On the floor Grace could see some of Helena’s toys: Porcelain-headed dolls of varying species, an ancient, rusting wagon, (filled with a pot of violets), an empty, wicker-hooded doll carriage, a sewing kit with the word ‘BORING’ scrawled on it, and a little wooden sword with an exquisite, delicate paint job.

 

And that wasn’t all. The room also contained Helena’s clothing on racks (among them the black dress she wore in the 1915 photograph; and a lacy nightgown with what seemed to be a stain on the crotch. If there was; it had clearly been bleached, but Grace was almost certain the stain was her imagination.

The shrine, Grace saw, also contained old photographs, and even her diary; which rested on a side table.

 

Grace silently wondered how Karnage had ever managed to reclaim the diary from his father’s possession but decided maybe it’d be better not to dwell on it. Crossing the room, Grace admired a marble fireplace that had a huge ebony-framed portrait of Helena on it. She wore a green velvet dress and had a haughty but depressed look on her face- it was more than likely that Pablo had commissioned said portrait; having been head of the family for so many years. It was dated ’21 and had a scrawled signature on the lower right corner. Also on the mantle were two tiny candles on tin holders (unlit)

 

And the image of Karnage surrounding himself in his sister’s memory with only the light of two tiny candles was almost eerie to Grace, who couldn’t help but shudder involuntarily. What if this wasn’t Karnage’s only secret?

 

Grace wasn’t sure how much time went by (She’d misplaced her watch somewhere) , but a lot of it did. Curious to get a closer look at the portrait of Helena, Grace stood on tippaws and tried to get to get a better view, accidentally knocking over one of the candles as she did.

 

The tin holder hit the carpet with a muted bump!

 

Karnage, meanwhile entered the cabin; radiating impatience.

 

“Senorita Kane? Have you….?”

 

He entered his cabin, but she was not there. Muttering under his breath and getting an increasingly bad feeling about this, Karnage went to the bookcase. One of the two false books that could be used to reach the shrine had been pulled out. Damn.

The wolf pulled out the other one and went behind the wall.

 

Grace was still leaning against the fireplace, with a nervous smile; and a look of very strained innocence on her face. She’d been hoping to find a way out before Karnage showed up.

 

Trying her best to seem causal, Grace whimpered:

 

“Um…….Hi?"

 

Grace stared silently at Karnage; waiting to be yelled at. He just glared at her and began to pace the fragile room. Although there was anger in Karnage’s eyes, Grace suspected Karnage was possibly more hurt than angry; and this was confirmed when he sat down in a gilt-armed wing chair, tears leaking from his dark eyes.

 

“Why?”He implored, half to himself.

 

“It was an accident!”Grace cried. “I had no idea there was a….”She paused. “Tomb down here.”

 

“Eet eesn’t a tomb,”Karnage corrected her. “Eet’s a memorial.”

 

“Why did you build it…..here though?”

 

Karnage gulped and clawed at his collar for a moment, staring at Helena’s angsty portrait with a brother’s love. “After she…..No one een de familia ever spoke of her again. Rosa and I weren’t allowed to grieve openly around de familia weethout getting….grief.”

 

Grace gulped. She was treading into dangerous territory now but had the nerve to ask:

 

“Why?”

 

“Dey all felt eet was her fault…..dat…”

 

He began to sob violently now.

 

“Dat she deserved….what ha-happened……for letting our father…..”

 

Grace stood up.

 

“Why did they think that though? Why?”

 

Karnage just shook his head bitterly. “Dey were brainwashed.”

 

“By who, your father?”

 

“Si!”

Instinctively, Grace shyly gave Karnage a hug; as she would comfort any other grieving friend.

 

He hugged her back, and Grace saw gratefulness in his eyes.

 

When they broke the embrace, Grace said:

 

“Look, if you don’t want to forgive me that’s okay. I’ve done a lot of crap these past few days or so.”

 

“I forgive you…..querida. It was my fault.”He paused. “Saqueo y tesoro no son las cosas mas importantes para mi. Tue res mi tesoro.”

 

Grace blushed visibly. That had CERTAINLY sounded romantic; and she was flattered.

 

“What….what does that mean?”

 

Karnage wiped at his tears for a moment. When he did speak, he said:

 

“What I just said, querida, was: ‘Plunder and treasure aren’t de most important things to me. You’re my treasure.’”

 

Grace sighed. She had better fess up now.

 

“I……I feel the same….I think.”

 

Her face was coated in a crimson blush.

 

Karnage drew her into another hug. “I am not wanting to let go.”

 

Grace hugged him back. “You know, you’re real sweet for a pirate, Felipe Karnage.”

 

She silently assumed they were on a first-name basis now, but was fine with it.

 

Karnage, meanwhile, blushed.

 

“I have dis….how you say….facade I put up sometimes for de crew. I don’t tell many.”

 

“And what’s that?”

 

“De one willing to use de plank….And de turnips and sandpaper.”

 

“THAT’S all just a cover?”

 

For it being just an act; Karnage had certainly gotten in-character. Then again, when playing yourself you’re pretty much always in character, after all.

 

“Well, you fooled me. I’ll admit that much.”She paused. “Could you ever tell that I felt the same though?”

 

“No…”

 

“I did. Really. I felt just like a little kid for having a crush on you.”

 

Karnage hugged her one more time, and Grace returned it.

 

“I think maybe someday I could probably even…. Love you.”

 

Her last two words were an embarrassed squeak, but Grace’s words were true beyond defiance.

 

Feeling flattered but nonetheless warm for everything Karnage had told her, Grace followed him as he went to the entrance of the shrine. She awkwardly put a paw on his shoulder.

 

“Thank you….For telling me everything. To be honest, I feel honored. Nobody’s ever loved me like this before. Never.”

 

“I do.”

 

As Karnage left the shrine, Grace followed him. They were holding paws.

 

Kit and Baloo however, were not exactly having the same luck. Wanting to finish their previous conversation in secrecy; the two bears chose to congregate in one of the Vulture's many boiler rooms; studying each other eye to eye, with Kit leaning haphazardly against the furnace, and Baloo standing near the brick-and-concrete wall.

 

"Baloo....There's something I left out. I couldn't exactly tell you in the Wrecked Room."

 

Baloo hesitated.

 

"And what's that, Little Britches?"

 

"He told me in his own words that...You've raised a wonderful boy. He meant it, Papa Bear. I saw."

 

Baloo had to look away for a moment, simply shaking his head. Them having been vigorous rivals up to now; he'd never really given any thought to figure out WHY Karnage thought the way he did. But; Baloo realized, the wolf was probably better left un-understood. He did after all, love playing the role of a mysterious shadowed figure; and the sloth bear was more than happy to let him stay that way.

 

Kit went on:

 

"I had to get him because...Venazetti threatened him with death."

 

"I know, Little Britches. And now I know why you did that. So now, maybe can we put the past aside and just...move on?"

 

Kit took a deep breath; before exhaling and nodding.

 

"Yes. We can."

 

The two bears emerged from the boiler room as once again; the spiritual equivalent of father and son.


	12. Chapter Twelve

As the September afternoon dragged by with mellow idleness, everyone formerly aboard the Iron Vulture went inside Pirate Island’s various caves to cool off- the Vulture’s air conditioning had broken again; and it was unanimously agreed that everyone would cool off from the unusually hot afternoon in the damp shadows of natural shade.

Vincent Collieone, however, did not yet know this. Commandeering a motorboat across the waves; all he could think about was what would become of him if he succeeded or failed in this mission: To succeed would mean promotion; possibly back to his former rank of secondo capo, and to fail would ultimately mean more torture, worse than the last session.

 

Vincent had selected seven of Luciano’s other dogs; all excellent assassins who could operate guns almost as well as he could.

“All right, boys.”

 

Vincent whispered to his comrades on deck, as Pirate Island grew nearer.

 

“Here’s the plan: We sneak aboard that Iron Parakeet junk bucket; go get Kane and Karnage, and bring ‘em back home to Luciano at the Dragon’s Lair. We’ll kill if we have to; and the boss will skin us alive and eat our bodies if we screw this one up. Got it?”

 

Unanimous nods all around.

 

“Good!”

 

Vincent let the motorboat come to a steady, natural halt as they approached the shores of Pirate Island. Mooring her to a decaying wooden post, in some shadowed undergrowth, Vincent slipped out like a creature of the night…and into the foggy afternoon. His assassins followed.

 

“Now…When I whistle; we go running up that gangplank there!”

 

Vincent pointed to the Iron Vulture’s gangplank. The craft itself had been well hidden in a group of trees; completely surrounded by rock and cliff. To anyone viewing the island from the mainland or even from the water would not be able to see the vessel, nor Vincent’s motorboat.

 

Using this to his advantage, in thirty seconds exactly Vincent gave a low, sharp whistle. His seven dogs leapt from the gully and bounded towards the Vulture, with Vincent himself hot on their heels as they thundered up.

 

But by the time they reached the inside of the aircraft carrier; the control room was empty, much to Vincent’s surprise.

 

“Huh. I thought they’d be here. Oh well. Search all the rooms; and meet me here when you’re done.”

 

Vincent waited ten minutes. So efficient were Luciano’s assassins that they finished exploring the Vulture in that absurdly fast amount of time.

 

The report was unanimous: The Pirates (along with Grace, Kit, and Baloo) were not there and nowhere to be seen.

 

Vincent gritted his teeth in impatient rage.

 

“All right. There’s one other place they still could be. Come on! Let’s search the caves!”

 

And with that, they hurried out.

 

Gathering at the mouth, Vincent brandished a flashlight from his belt, and turned it on.

 

“I want you to know….Every square inch of this cave is trapped and rigged. Luciano showed me a map. Don’t make a move without me saying so; because if you step the wrong way, you could end up with a steel trap around your paw.”

Demonstrating, Vincent took three steps ahead, and then tapped his footpaw down on another piece of floor. A steel hunting trap sprang up; and Vincent grinned coyly.

 

“And that’s just one. There also might be alarms here that could alert our presence; so be careful, all of you.”

 

Vincent carefully led his dogs down a straight trail, before snaking off to the right.

 

“You know where Karnage is, Vincent?”

 

One of them asked.

 

“Hopefully, yes. In all likelihood he could really be anywhere; but we’re most likely t’find him in his treasure room, eyein’ all that loot. Miss Kane….She’s a bit of a wild card. She literally COULD be anywhere. Hopefully we’ll get lucky and find her straight off.”

 

Vincent led them down a narrow corridor to that infamous room where Karnage stored all his valuable knickknacks. Peering haphazardly in from a safe distance, Vincent could see Karnage AND Kane sitting at an ornate table, laughing and drinking what appeared to be wine. Vincent Collieone waited until they went into an adjoining room and heard the door click quietly.

 

“Bingo!”

 

He whispered, grinning.

 

“Somebody give me the goods.”

 

A muscled paw reached out and handed Vincent a tiny blue drawstring bag. Vincent crept into the opulent treasure room and approached the table, opening the bag. Within it was a powerful tranquilizer; in the form of a clear powder that was tasteless and unscented as well.

 

Sprinkling a little bit of it in each glass, Vincent nodded slowly towards his waiting cohorts and crept back to join them. If all went well; the two canines in the Treasure Room would be in a state of deep unconsciousness within minutes, and would be ready to bring to the Dragon’s Lair. If all went well.

 

When Grace and Karnage emerged from the room next door moments later; Grace was feeling light and happy but it an odd way. As she sat back down on the small table that had been set up, she leaned across it and said:

 

"Thanks for showing me all that loot in the next room. I had no idea you actually had THAT much."

 

Grace took a sip of what was left of her red wine.

 

Karnage said something in response, but for some reason she had trouble hearing him.

 

A knot began to twist in Grace's stomach; and she almost felt like vomiting all of a sudden. Casting her glass aside, she put her head in her paws and muttered

 

"I don't feel so good...."

 

Black spots obscured her vision; and moments later, she blacked out. Although she'd been too disoriented to notice, the same had also happened to Karnage.

 

Vincent had been watching from the doorway. Grinning evilly, he signaled for his comrades to go ahead and move out. By the time they escaped with the prisoners; all the alarms in the cave had gone off, and a full-blown chaos was in bloom.

 

A limo sent from the Dragon's Lair was waiting at the docks to pick up Vincent and company, and they all got in so fast nobody ever noticed the unconscious dog and wolf sprawled next to each other in the concealed backseat.

 

Felipe Karnage regained consciousness slowly. He vaguely recalled having a strange dream of Helena glaring at him while eating an overly-decadent bowl of strawberry-and-vanilla ice cream; bringing back memories of the days when ice cream came in molds. There was a terrible pain in his head and legs, and it took a moment for the wolf to process where he was even after his eyes were open.

 

Karnage found himself in what he guessed to be an abandoned hotel room from maybe the 1890's; it was dank and reeked of mold, and had peeling blue-and-white striped wallpapers that probably had been made with the infamous lead paint. There was no furniture in the room, however, unless a few ancient, unlit wall sconces counted.

 

Instinctively, Karnage looked around for Grace but she wasn't there. Suddenly; everything came back to him just before he could panic: Somebody had spiked their drinks!

 

As soon as I find de bastard who did dat I'll make sure dey rot in infierna....

 

Karnage thought bitterly, sitting up and then standing. A loud knock on the door startled him.

 

Luciano strode imperiously in; dressed in a canary-yellow business suit and brandishing a dagger- or was that a letter-opener? Luciano was somehow slightly more muscular than Karnage remembered him; as though getting shot had somehow made him stronger.

 

Other than that though, Luciano was his same old self; right down to his appearance: Long gray-brown fur with white spots above his eyes, a broad otterlike tail, and narrow ears. Coupled with his copper eyes; the Dogfather was an eyesore.

 

"Likin' my hideout; Karnie?"

 

Luciano grinned viciously.

 

Suddenly Karnage knew what was going on.

 

"You bastard! How de hell deed you keednap me like that?!"

 

He snarled.

 

Luciano laughed happily.

"I just sent out a team of my best assassins; and my former secondo capo Vincent, the backstabbing little monster. And to answer the question I'm SUUURE you were going to ask; yes your darling little Miss Kane is safe. And alive. I'm just not at liberty to say where she is though."

 

"And what else do you want, Venazetti?"

 

Karnage grated through clenched teeth.

 

"Oh nothing much....Just a little.....Play. In the basement."

 

Torture.

 

Karnage froze. His mind instantly leapt back to that horrible day in March; the first and last time Luciano had tortured him, but it had still been horrible. For weeks he'd been convinced he was losing his mind, and it had taken the wolf nearly a month to get his full memory back following being injected with a mind-control drug.

 

"Venazetti, you won't TORTURE ME IF IT'S THE LAST THEENG YOU DO!"

 

Karnage lunged at Luciano and sank his fangs into the Dogfather's wrist. Luciano yelped and stepped back.

 

"You've got a bite; but that ain't going to deter me. Now just come to the basement. Things will only get worse if you don't."

 

Luciano's next words were in a callous whisper:

 

"I'm sure it could even be arranged for you to go......the word. Within half an hour. Painfully. You know; I could even break your bones while I'm at it. Every bone in your body!"

 

Karnage refused to say a word following this, but mentally he was never going to give up. Indeed, the wolf's eyes were smoldering with vicious hate as Luciano dragged him out by the arm.

 

They went down three hallways before Karnage was led down a set of 18 stairs into the basement. It was even worse than he remembered it.

 

Leading Karnage past the breaking wheel, a rack, some tongue rippers and cat's claws; Luciano released the wolf and shoved him in front of a wooden chair covered with rusted spikes.

 

"An interrogation chair. Sixteenth-century; Thembrian import. 1500 spikes in all. You know how long you'll be sittin' on this, Karnage?"

 

Karnage knew this was a rhetorical question.

 

"Two hours. And then it'll just get even worse!"

 

Pointing to a nearby closet, Luciano intoned:

 

"Go in there and strip down to the fur. If you take more than five minutes I'll come in and break your back."

 

"Have fun with dat."

 

Karnage muttered, also calling Luciano a string of foul names as he loped off into the musty-smelling closet and emerged three minutes later; having left his clothes behind.

 

The wolf was well-aware Luciano had no problem with seeing creatures in the nude; and that just made him smolder even more as Luciano eyed him with a look of hate.

 

"Get in the chair damnit."

 

Karnage had little choice as Luciano half-shoved him onto the spikes. The wolf almost let out a loud yelp of pain as the nails sliced his fur, but he wasn't going to give Luciano that pleasure. He'd gotten far too much out of his pain already.

 

Fixing thick ropes over Karnage's wrists and ankles, Luciano knelt and stared at his prisoner at eye level.

 

“I got a little secret for you.”

Luciano said with a grin.

 

“I’m evil for a reason y’know.….Starting when I was 6 years old your old man touched me in places I can’t mention in public. I cried at night. I got real jealous; walkin’ past that big fancy house o’ yours and your uptight family. I saw all of your birthday parties and your fancy balls, and your lawn parties and croquet games right up till nineteen hundred an’ sixteen.”

 

Here Luciano smiled, but slyly now.

 

“What you don’t know is that your old man; he broke your mother’s neck. And I helped!”

 

“SON OF A BITCH!”

 

Karnage roared in Spanish, wanting to lunge forward in the chair were it not for the spikes that would stab his back and lower body.

 

“And that wasn’t all: Right before he killed your mama….I got to do her too! Right in her own room. You had real pretty sisters, you know. Especially that Helena. I saw her once while she was sleepin’- didn’t touch her none, though. But I bet she had some good stuff you know where….Beneath the hips!”

 

This set Karnage off completely.

 

“You do NOT talk about Helena Evita Karnage that way!”

 

Luciano just laughed sadistically.

 

“Aww; you still want to stick up for big sis, Felipe? What a good little brother you are!”

 

Pausing, the Dogfather whispered in an ice-cold voice:

 

“Ain’t like she can hear us can she?”

 

Luciano began to pace.

 

“Pity. I would’ve loved to make your old man eat his own balls; but I can’t do that. I’d be shot and hung for executing the royalty of Karnageport right in his own home turf! So you know what? I’ll just have to kill YOU!”


	13. Chapter Thirteen

“….So if you haven’t bled to death in two hours; I’ll see you then! Good day!”

And with that; Luciano flounced out of the room.

 

He really is going de word.

 

Trying not to let himself be blinded by the sheer callousness of what Luciano had just said, Karnage tried to divert himself by looking for a route of escape. The ropes on his ankles were a definite no-go; so instead he focused on the ones binding his wrists; one of which was actually a white leather strap to the right.

 

Upon picking at it for a few moments, Karnage found that the strap was weak and easily pliable. After a few strong and well-placed jerks he was able to free his right arm.

 

“Now….we are getting to de somewhere….”

He muttered to himself, and focused now on his left, wincing as the spikes dug into his fur. It took several tries; but within about four minutes Karnage was able to rip the piece of rope from the arm of the chair.

 

It was only a matter of time before he was able to free his legs as well, but they were not nearly as easy. The whole thing must have taken around thirteen minutes total (although there was no clock in the basement), and when done Karnage heaved a sigh of happy relief and darted off into the closet.

 

Emerging minutes later having dressed, he slammed the door shut and half-ran half-limped to the stairs; gritting his teeth with the pain of his lacerations. If and when Karnage got back to the Vulture, his wounds would be treated there, a fact that gave him some hope.

 

“Oh Luciano you are so…..de word. Eet almost makes me sad.”

 

Karnage thought aloud as he jogged up the steps and into….An unguarded hallway!

 

However, distant shouts and screams from another corridor soon sent Karnage on his way. Hopefully to Grace.

 

“Come on Miss Kane…Come out come out from wherever you were…..”

 

The sound of Luciano’s low, aroused voice shattered Grace’s catacomb of unconsciousness and the slippery netherworld she’d been lodged in for who-knows-how-long suddenly dissolved like sand at the beach.

 

“Mhhmm……Uh…what?”

 

Blinking, Grace struggled to adjust to the harsh light.

 

She was in a large room with a mahogany rolltop desk; no windows, two ebony bookcases filled with books with titles like Common Pornography and A lexicon of female anatomy and sexual behavior. There were several chairs, but Grace was not sitting in any of them. She lay sprawled on the floor with Luciano staring hungrily at the crotch of her skirt.

 

“Where the hell am I?!”

 

Grace raged, trying to sit up.

 

Luciano yanked her none too gently upright.

 

“Welcome to my humble abode, Miss Kane. I call it the Dragon’s Lair. Pleasant, isn’t it?”

 

“Uh….sure it is.”

 

Luciano grinned perversely.

 

“Your little boyfriend Karnie is in my basement. That’s my torture chamber you know.”

 

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

 

Grace muttered harshly, but the embarrassment in her voice betrayed her.

 

“Oh like hell he ain’t!”

 

Luciano suddenly cried out, eyes wild.

 

Calming somewhat, he whispered:

“I’m gonna do you Grace Kane. I’m going to fuck you until you want me to.”

 

“I wouldn’t want you touching me if I were DEAD!”

 

Grace grated.

 

Luciano just laughed.

 

“Sure you would, baby. Sureeee you would.”

 

The Dogfather gave her a hard swat on the hip, and again on the rump; just as Don Pablo Karnage had done to him so many years ago as a little puppy.

 

Grace jerked away. She felt frantically in her sleeve for the comfort of her gun. Miraculously it was still there. Somebody had forgot to frisk her for weapons.

Grace froze and whipped it out, her paw gripping her revolver until she thought it would turn blue and fall off. Luciano’s hungry eyes scanned her lower body. His muscular right paw shot forward and gripped her crotch hard. Grace let out an involuntary cry of pain.

“Let go of me you bastard.”

 

She growled.

 

Luciano squeezed her harder.

 

“Grace Kane, are your panties wet?”

 

“And how the hell is that your business?”

 

A sly smile curled on those awful broad jaws.

 

“Because I want to fuck you Gracie, like I said. Fuck you hard.”

 

“I wouldn’t sleep with you if you were the last dog on earth!”

 

Grace’s snarled words were the truth. They shattered Luciano to his deep and blood-red core. He released his paw and lunged for her but Grace had already stepped back. Luciano was truly unhinged now, his reddish eyes wild, mouth flecked with white foam. His paw gripped a dagger.

 

Rabies?

 

Grace didn’t have time to analyze this. With shaking paws, she clutched her revolver, held it in front of her face and pulled the trigger.

 

BANG!!!! The bullet went right between Luciano’s eyes, cleaving through fur and flesh and stopping halfway. He clutched his throat, made a few wet gurgling rasps and expired. Thus ended the reign of Don Luciano diVenazetti……the Dogfather.

 

Grace had to sit down for a minute, shaken to the core by what she’d done.

 

He was a bastard and you killed him in self-defense. He was a bastard and you killed him in self-defense. He was an evil fucking son of a bitch and you killed him in self-defense!

 

Became her silent mental mantra.

 

Grace leapt up clutching her throat as the door was slammed roughly open minutes later and Karnage strode in; looking like the romantic hero of one of those fantasy movies.

 

“Grace; I have come to save you from de clutches of--- ”

 

He froze at the sight of Luciano’s body.

 

“Sere de maldecido…..”

 

He murmured.

 

I’ll be damned.

 

“He was a bastard and I killed him in self-defense! I swear!”

 

Grace rasped.

 

“Querida, I believe you.”

 

Karnage said, and put an arm around her shoulder.

 

Moments after he’d spoken, the first squad cars were already on their way to the ruins of the Dragon’s Lair.

 

Karnage stood.

 

“Let us be going. De policia will be here soon.”

 

“Police? What happened?! Besides me….uh….”

 

Karnage shook his head.

 

“Just a feeling.”

 

Grace hastily took his word for it; and like creatures of the night, they disappeared into the blood-red early evening just as the police began to swamp Luciano’s former sanctuary.


	14. Epilogue

Getting out of the Dragon’s Lair had not been an easy task; and in the end Grace and Karnage had had to battle their way past all twenty members of Luciano’s mob. To make a long story short though; they got out of there fairly unscathed. The same could not be said for Luciano’s former goons. They were all arrested for murder, sexual abuse among other such charges, and Vincent Collieone; their would-be leader committed suicide upon learning of his Don’s demise. He was twenty-eight years old; and Luciano had been forty-nine.

Following their insane escape, Karnage and Grace managed to get back to Pirate Island via a hijacked rowboat. Kit and Baloo left the island the next morning; on September 11th. Kit and Karnage’s issues with each other were never fully resolved, but at least now they could tolerate being in the same room together.

 

As for Grace and Karnage? They began to date well into the following month, and on October 13th, 1938, Karnage finally got up the nerve to propose to Grace. She joyously accepted; and things got so much more hectic after that.

 

Suddenly it became time to get well away from Cape Suzette. Grace sold her house and wrote Max a letter saying she’d resigned from her position of photojournalist. She hoped he would understand.

 

Eventually, Karnage and Grace’s wedding date was set: October 29th. In Karnageport. Well where else? Grace had never been more harried on the long drive north. Karnageport was over 400 miles north; and she and Karnage had stopped at several motels and hotels around the way, (They’d taken her ’31 Rolls Royce) and on a moonlit October evening, Karnage and Grace ended up sitting on the same bed in their dingy hotel room, kissing passionately.

 

Those long hours on the road seemed to drag by forever, but as they approached their destination Grace found it wasn't so bad.

 

They got to Karnageport the next morning; and Grace was to say the least impressed. It hadn’t changed much since the photographs she’d looked at: It was still surrounded by pine trees; there still were 19th century houses all around, and converted speakeasies and general stores, and a huge quarry to the east.

 

The only thing that really HAD changed about Karnageport was that more buildings had burned since the last time Karnage had been there (1929) Indeed; it was a highly flammable town. Various buildings and public landmarks were struck down by lightning each year, and the town itself had almost burned to the ground during the Great Fire of 1793.

 

The white elephant that was the family residence, Grace was dismayed to learn, was still standing just as always. This meant there a slew of unpleasant memories to deal with; among the fact that Pablo was still alive, and just as deranged as ever.

 

Grace also feared how the guests would react around Karnage’s unstable father. Some of the creatures attending the would-be wedding were: Her cousin Abby, Karnage’s sister Rosa (divorced) and her two-year-old daughter Elisa Hawley, a dark gray-furred little she-wolf with copper-colored eyes and a bright smile. Unfortunately Rosa had not known that her and Karnage’s father was still alive; but luckily she and Elisa had been staying in a hotel most of the time and far far away from Pablo’s maniacal, drooling grins.

 

Speaking of the wolf; Grace had been terrified of him the moment she’d laid eyes on him. Perhaps once the head of the family had been menacing in a different way, but now he was little more than a walking corpse. His coal-black fur was almost completely gray now; his clothes stained and torn, and there was a huge stagger in his movement when he descended the staircase at precisely three each afternoon.

Upon seeing his son for the first time in years, Pablo glared down the imperial staircase and rasped:

 

“Got yourself a pretty little bitch, don’t you son?”

 

Before hobbling back up the stairs into his bedroom to get even drunker.

 

“One of these days I’ll keel dat filthy bastard…”

 

Karnage muttered darkly, before stalking off himself.

 

Grace herself later did not want to recall a soon-following incident involving Karnage, his memories, and one of Pablo’s antique dueling pistols; an event that almost ended in Karnage’s suicide had Grace not intervened and thrown the gun out the dust and dead-bug covered window.

 

Needless to say; this was still not an angst-less wedding, and the afternoon it was to occur (the day after the incident with the gun), Karnage insisted on fixing his father a strong cup of coffee for his hangover. That coffee was laced with wolfbane, shoe-black, soap, and a hefty amount of common cough syrup.

 

“….That’s awfully good coffee son…”

 

Pablo muttered, before slumping over on the table never to open his eyes. He was sixty-eight years old.

 

There were no witnesses other than Karnage; and everyone assumed that simple old age had caused the elder wolf’s passing.

So now the virginal white that had been Grace and Karnage’s wedding; was now intermingled with funeral black.

 

Nonetheless, the show went on anyway; and Grace and Karnage were married by the local justice of the peace on the evening of October 29th, with a wedding portrait having been done shortly afterwards. Grace called it ‘embarrassingly old-fashioned’: She had been dressed in her great-grandmother’s wedding dress; a narrow cloud of white-tulle with a bell-shaped satin skirt and a corset that partially obstructed her breathing.

 

Karnage however, in typical style praised himself (and to a degree, Grace) on his appearance: He wore a white frock coat and cuffed brown trousers; the same that had been worn by his ultra-greedy grandfather Diego for the family’s 100th straight year in power back in 1875.

 

Upon viewing the finished wedding portrait a week later, Grace thought: Wow, this actually looks pretty good!

 

Eventually though, they overstayed their welcome and the time came to get the hell out of Karnageport. But not before Karnage visited a certain someone….

 

Running through the family graveyard in the yard; he searched on his paws and knees desperately for the one grave he wanted.

 

Finding the tombstone sunk into the ground, though, Karnage knew that it was his sister’s. It used to read:

 

HELENA EVITA KARNAGE

 

SISTER, DAUGHTER, FRIEND

 

BORN: JANUARY 21st, 1904

 

DIED: FEBRUARY 12th, 1928

 

“Helena….You are not knowing how much your brother misses you!”

 

Karnage wept openly at the sight of the sunken tombstone, surrounded by weeds and Pablo’s beer bottles, with its cut-off birth and death dates (but still dates he knew by heart)

 

“Felipe? Felipe what the hell are you doing out here?”

 

Karnage looked up at the sound of Grace’s voice. Her call was playful, but obscured with worry.

 

“Veesiting my sister, what else?”

 

He rose, trying to keep his voice light.

 

“Yeah like I’m buying that. I know how hard this must be. I’m sorry.”

 

Grace went over to him, and they embraced on that windblown, gray fall afternoon. Alone together, it seemed like time had stopped.

 

When they eventually did go back into the house to pack their things, the dog and the wolf were side by side.

In the following days; Karnage contacted his sister Rosa after the wedding and had a long talk with her about what had been going on in the past decade since they’d last seen each other.

 

Rosa fervently urged him to give up piracy (something Grace would do as soon as she got up the nerve) but it wasn’t clear if Karnage was going to listen or not. However, Rosa said that he was welcome to stay in her own town; some place in the eastern suburbs called Southshire, where no one had yet heard of his illegal exploits.

 

So in the following days; Grace was quick to take all her furniture out of Cape Suzette’s public storage department, and she and Karnage were off to Southshire.

 

In the end; the town was everything suburbs were stereotyped as: idyllic, quiet and comforting. Southshire itself, founded in 1897, was all of those things and more, and the dog and the wolf eventually moved into a two-story colonial built in 1924 that was about a block away from Rosa’s house.

 

Grace’s thirty-first birthday came around that November. She and Karnage celebrated it with wine, cake, jazz records and a lot of ‘20’s dancing (even though Grace was a just-okay dancer)

 

When Karnage turned thirty-one on February 10th, 1939, it was a much bigger deal- especially since the wolf had been telling his crew for years that he was twenty-nine. Grace, much to his chagrin, cheerfully blurted his actual age to the other Pirates; to which they all guffawed.

 

Karnage himself, sitting across the room, was looking pretty cowed, but by the end of the evening things were okay. Sort of.

 

It was around this time and into March that Grace began to suspect that she was pregnant. She got tired far more easily than usual; she sometimes felt nauseous for no reason, and also found herself frequently dizzy or having to use the bathroom more often than usual.

 

By the end of March, she knew she had to tell Karnage (Grace had always had mixed feelings about having children) but of course, he was overjoyed at the fact of FINALLY having an heir. So Grace decided she at least had a little to be happy for in this pregnancy; and as she went along, the more she looked forward to the actual birth.

 

Sure enough, Alice Marina and Leo Felix Karnage were born on July 11th, 1939 right in the middle of a blazing summer afternoon. They were twins; but different in every way: Physically, Alice was a miniature replica of Karnage and Rosa, with her auburn-red fur, dark brown-black eyes; and twisted ears. She also had his tail. Leo however, was more like Grace, with jet-black fur (minus his mother’s chocolate undertones) a muscular little body and the hazel eyes that marked a Kane male. She knew that her own father would have been so proud to have them both as his grandchildren.

 

Overjoyed would be describing Karnage’s reaction mildly; and he spent most of the remainder of the day partying with his crew (all of whom had long relocated in or around Southshire), and Grace, were she not so exhausted would have joined in.

 

It was now July 18th, and evening had long crept over Southshire’s quiet avenues and secluded street corners. Grace peered into the shadows beyond her open bedroom door; for Alice and Leo’s nursery was across the hall, and it’d taken her FOREVER to get the both of them to sleep.

 

Grace turned to her alarm clock and tried to make out the tiny numbers in the darkness. 3:05 in the morning. Karnage had fallen asleep hours ago; but Grace did not have the ability to doze off quite so easily, sadly.

 

The two of them were lying back to back in bed, with Karnage muttering about plunder in his sleep, and Grace figured he was probably having some fanciful dream or another and smiled.

 

Outside in the distance, some crazy kids were still outside playing with firecrackers (July 18th was Usland’s Independence Day) and the muted Crack! Carried up past the bedroom windows.

 

Feeling her husband turn beside her, Grace crouched against the mattress and let her thick tail rest against his, and pulled the thin blanket farther around her body.

 

Becoming Grace Karnage would take some getting used to, but she’d done some of it already, and Grace had no doubt she could get the job done.

 

Well, future…Whatever you’ve got in store. Bring it on!

 

Grace thought courageously, and soon, she drifted off to her own dreams on that perfect white-satin night.


End file.
